


An Ocean Apart

by farewell_atreyu



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farewell_atreyu/pseuds/farewell_atreyu
Summary: 4,336 miles. The distance between London and Orlando.George has never been so aware of it until now, helplessly listening to the white noise coming from Dream's mic. Dread pools in his stomach as his fingers stumble over the phone's keyboard, searching for a contact he hasn't thought about in months. It seems to take ages for the call to connect, but eventually George hears the groggy "hello" he's been waiting for.He takes a deep breath."I think there's something wrong with Dream."
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 220
Kudos: 1424





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone :D
> 
> I’ve never posted on AO3 before, but I recently wrote a Dream Team fic, so I figured I’d put it up on here and Wattpad to see if anyone would enjoy reading it. Even if only five people actually read this, it’ll still make it totally worth it.
> 
> I’ll probably post chapters every other day - I have my rough draft mostly done, but I have a LOT of editing I want to do. You guys are in for a wild ride ;)
> 
> I considered Dream and George’s relationship in this story to be a close friendship; however, you guys are welcome to interpret this story however you want. They will never explicitly date or be in love with each other, if that’s what you’re looking for.
> 
> Finally, I will obviously take this story down if Dream, George, or Sapnap ever say that they’re uncomfortable with fanfiction about them. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

I shriek when I check F5 mode and see him, leaping up the mountain just a few blocks back. 

“Oh, George...” He gets another hit on me, and I wince, hands tight on the controls. Dream laughs, the kind of maniacal laugh that shoots adrenaline through me. He can taste victory. We both know that it’s over, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to get away.

“Mmmmgghhh,” I grunt, hopping across the treetops. 

“Come here, George! Come here!” He gets another hit in, bringing me down to one heart as my hunger bar steadily drains. I’m going to lose my sprint soon, but there’s no way that I can stop running.

“Wait...” The change in Dream’s tone startles me - he sounds... confused? I check F5 mode once again. “George, I... I don’t-”

“Yes!” I exclaim when I spot him, frozen, many blocks behind me. “Let’s go!” I’m flooded with relief. I don’t know what he’s confused about, but it’s giving me time to eat. I still have a shot!

As I gleefully skip away, I can’t help but gloat. “How does it feel, Dream? To be  _ so _ close?”

I’m answered by silence, besides the grass underneath my character’s feet and my soft breaths. I can feel dread start to pool in my stomach, but I laugh it off nervously. “You’re too quiet, Dream. I know you’re planning something.”

In response, I hear a sickening thud that seems to echo through my headphones.

My heart drops. “ _ Dream?  _ Dream, are you there?”

I’m used to him being quiet. I’m used to hearing no response to my questions besides a soft laugh, a groan, or even simply his faint, focused breaths. Never before have I heard this absolute silence from his mic, combined with the faint white noise letting me know he’s still in the TeamSpeak call.

No longer focused on escaping, I retrace my steps back to where I last saw Dream’s character. I pause when I spot him in exactly the same position as he was when he froze during my escape. 

“Is... is this some sort of trick?” I walk closer to Dream, half expecting him to turn on me with his iron sword at any moment, but he doesn’t budge as I approach. 

“Dream?” I wack him with my sword once, and then twice, but he doesn’t react. Staring at his frozen character, I don’t think I’ve ever been more aware of the thousands of kilometers between us. When he was chasing me just a few moments ago, I had felt like we were side by side as we laughed and taunted each other. But now, I’ve never felt farther away from my best friend.

I sit back from the controls, no longer attempting to ignore the dread sitting heavily in my stomach. I grab my phone and search for Dream in my contacts as quickly as possible, but I mistype his name twice with my shaky hands.  _ Dresm. Drean. Dream. _

As I listen to the phone ring, I try to reassure myself. He probably left to go to the bathroom and forgot to tell me... or his computer glitched... or he spilled his drink on it and it broke...

No matter how hard I try, none of these can convince me. I keep hearing his last few words, where he sounded so unlike the Dream I know. So small, lost, confused. And scared. 

“Hi, you’ve reached Clay -” I flinch as the phone chirps Dream’s voicemail, and I quickly call again.

_ “George, I - I don’t -”  _ You don’t  _ what _ ? I wonder, chewing on the inside of my cheek nervously. If only I had listened to him, instead of yelling over him about our stupid Minecraft challenge...

And then, the thud. I hear it over and over, despite my attempts to banish it from my mind.

“Hi, you’ve reached Cl-”

I end the call, staring at my phone helplessly. What can I possibly do, when I’m across the Atlantic Ocean from him, and he won’t pick up my calls? What can I do but sit here and listen to the white noise coming from his mic, waiting for a sound? Hopeless, I’m about to shut off my phone when I get a glimpse of the contact below Dream.

_ Dream’s Mum. _

I gaze at the words for half a second, wondering if I’m about to make an absolute fool of myself, but my dread overpowers my hesitation. I call her.

“Come on, pick up,” I murmur. It’s late at night in Florida, so she could be asleep, with her phone off. Then I’d have to wait hours. Horrific images of what could have happened to Dream flash before my eyes. “Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick-” 

“Hello?” 

The voice, slightly groggy, catches me off guard. Before I know what I’m doing, I blurt, “There’s something wrong with Dream.”

“I... what?”

“Dream - I mean, Clay - Uh, this is George.” I take a deep breath, focusing on the voice on the other side of the line, and not all the horrible things that could have happened to Dream. “I was just playing Minecraft with Clay, when suddenly he didn’t sound right, and then went silent. His character isn’t moving, he won’t pick up any of my calls, and... and there was this  _ thud _ ...” I try to swallow, but my throat feels like it’s closing up. “Could you... could you maybe check on him?”

It sounds ridiculous now that it’s out of my mouth. Telling her to check on her adult son in the dead of night because his internet friend says that he fell silent while playing a video game. Dream’s mum is quiet for a moment, and I wait for her to scoff, maybe laugh, and ridicule me for waking her.

Instead, she responds, “Okay. I should be at his apartment in ten minutes, if I can find my key...” She trails off, and I can hear the faint sounds of her moving stuff around.

“I’m sorry, this must sound so stupid...”

“George, you know Clay.” She sighs, and adds, “Probably better than I do at this point. I trust you.”

The anxiety in my voice definitely helped convince her. I sound like I’m on the verge of tears when I say, “Thank you.”

“I’ll call you when I get there, okay?” Dream’s mum’s voice is warm and at ease. 

“Okay. Bye.” I wonder if she’s just humoring me at this point, or if she’s genuinely worried for Dream. I suppose it doesn’t matter, as long as it gets rid of the ball of dread solidifying in my stomach.

I sit back in my chair, and I don’t think I lift my eyes from my phone for the next ten minutes as I wait for her call. I taste blood from biting my lip too hard, a nervous habit, and it only adds to my nausea. I swing my chair to the left, to the right, to the left, my eyes still not leaving the phone.

That is, until I hear faint movement from Dream’s mic. I glance up and do a double-take when I lock eyes with my face in my second monitor. I look awful - brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes wide. I’m hunched forward, swinging back in forth in my chair like some sort of maniac. I can only hold my gaze for a few seconds before I look down in disgust, but it’s long enough for me to notice the button on the screen.

_ End Stream. _

What?

_ End Stream. _

For a moment I stare at it in disbelief. Then my vision clicks into focus - the viewer count, which is in the thousands, the chat, which is updating faster than I can read, and the donations pouring in. I watch a few of them flash by.

_ GEORGE WHAT’S HAPPENING _

_ who did you call????? _

_ oh my god i’m shaking _

_ WHAT HAPPENED TO DREAM _

Even before I lunge for the mouse to end the stream, I know it’s too late. They’ve been watching this whole time. They’ve been recording, immortalizing these events to be shared on the internet forever. My shaky hand slips the couple of times I try to click the button. Finally, I succeed, cutting off their view, and I quickly end the TeamSpeak call as well.

But it’s not before I hear the faint sirens coming through Dream’s mic.


	2. Chapter 2

I sit back in my chair after ending the stream, hugging my legs up against my chest. I rock slightly, trying to ignore the possibilities that flash across my vision every time I blink. 

I don’t know that the sirens were relating to Dream. I mean, I hear faint background noise coming through his mic all the time when we’re filming. It was just an unfortunate coincidence. At least, that’s what I tell myself, but deep down I know I don’t believe it.

I’m not sure how long I wait for an answer, curled in my little ball of anxiety. When the phone does ring, I start as if I was in a trance and lunge for it. In my desperation, my hand hits the table a little too hard, but I don’t even notice the throbbing of my fingertips.

“Hello?” It takes every ounce of my willpower to start with a greeting this time, withholding the stream of questions waiting at the tip of my tongue.

“Hi, George,” Dream’s mum responds, although if I didn’t know better, I would’ve assumed I was speaking to a different person. The warm, friendly voice from the first call has been replaced with one that sounds fragile, tight with anxiety. 

I can tell from those two words that something is wrong.

“What happened?” Suddenly, I find that I have to force myself to ask the burning question. Do I even want to know the answer?

“I - We don’t know yet. I found him slumped over in his chair. He wouldn’t wake up...” Dream’s mum pauses, taking a breath to steady herself. “I called an ambulance, and I’m on my way to the hospital right now.”

“Oh my god.” I feel far away from my phone, far away from this conversation, as I watch Dream fall over, his face hitting the keyboard, oblivious to my worried voice.

“Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? I didn’t get the chance to ask many questions, but the EMTs seemed to think he had some kind of head injury...”

I’m opening my mouth to say that I don’t when it hits me. Dream had been late to our voice call. He had sounded a bit shaken up, although he had brushed it off...

_ “I fell down the stairs on the way up to my apartment, hit my head pretty hard... yeah, I’m fine, I just had my hands full with groceries, so I couldn’t catch myself... I’m an idiot, let’s just start the stream.” _

With all of my panic and anxiety, I hadn’t given that conversation a second thought, and I was only half paying attention in the first place. I repeat Dream’s story to his mum with as much detail as I can remember. 

“Oh, Clay.” She exhales when I finish, sounding exhausted. I listen to the faint honking coming from her side of the line, before she continues. “Alright, I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot now, so I’ll have to hang up soon. I’ll call you back when I know more, but it might be a while.”

Cracks have started to form in her fragile tone. I want to comfort her, reassure her, tell her how much her son means to me, bond with her over our shared anxiety, but when I open my mouth all I can manage is a pathetic “Okay.” After a moment of silence, I add, “Thank you.”

“No - thank you for calling me.” I can hear a bit of the woman from earlier as she says, “Like I said, you know Clay. Without you, he’d still be -”

I shudder. In the silence that follows, I know we’re both picturing the same thing. Who knows how long he’d be slumped over his table, all alone in his apartment...

“Anyway,” Dream’s mum pushes forward. “Take care of yourself, George. I’ll call you back with more info.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Once again, I’m left with nothing to do but wait. Well, wait and attempt to ignore the situations flashing through my mind of the many things that could be wrong with Dream. My legs feel stiff, and I really need to pee, but I can’t bring myself to move. I find myself staring at my phone again, even though I know I’ll have to get up eventually. Dream’s mum said it would be a while, and I’m probably not even first in her list of people to update, with all of Dream’s family -

My thoughts are suddenly cut off by an annoyed meow. I glance down and see my cat sitting in front of my feet, as he always does when he wants attention. Now that we’ve locked eyes, he meows again.

“Go away,” I say, nudging him with my foot. “Go bother Mum. I’m not in the mood, okay?”

Stubborn as always, he meows again and paws at the foot that nudged him. I glare at him for a couple of moments, but I give in, as always, scooping him up in my arms. “Hey baby,” I croon, rubbing his head. He purrs contentedly in response.

When my cat scrambles out of my arms, I use it as motivation to push myself out of my chair, grabbing my phone before following him into the kitchen. I search the cabinets for something easy to make, finally deciding on a bagel and cream cheese when a car pulls into the driveway. The last thing I want right now is to have to force a casual conversation with my dad, so I skip the cream cheese and slip back to my room.

When the phone finally rings, it takes me a few seconds of fumbling to get it out of my pocket. I’m just about to pick up the call when the caller ID catches my eye. Not Dream’s Mum, like I had assumed, but...

_ Sapnap.  _ Who has never called me, always texting instead. The image of myself that I saw projected onto my computer screen flashes before my eyes. My panicked fidgeting, my shaky voice... and the absolute silence from Dream’s end, preceded by that awful thud. Of course Sapnap has seen it by now; clips from the stream must be absolutely everywhere. 

My stomach turns as I gaze at Sapnap’s smiling icon, the same as his Youtube profile picture.  _ I can’t face him.  _ I can’t face my parents. I most certainly cannot face my fans. I just want to be left alone, in my dark room, with my stupid plain bagel.

I decline the call. And when my mum bangs on my door, asking if I want to play some board games with her and Dad, I decline that as well.

My phone doesn’t leave my hands for the next hour as I pace back and forth across my bedroom. Sometimes I’ll try to distract myself by starting a Minecraft world or picking up some of the dirty clothes around my room, but my efforts only last a few minutes before I realize I’m staring aimlessly at my computer, my bedroom floor, or the inside of my closet while my thoughts spiral.

Dream, Dream, Dream. Where is he now? How is he doing? Is he still unconscious? Is he even still aliv-

_ No. _ I look down and realize that I’ve balled the pair of underwear I was picking up in my fist, as if I’m getting ready to fight the thoughts I’m trying to ward off. I take a breath to steady myself. As I uncurl my fingers, the underwear falls helplessly into my hamper.

The sound of my phone ringing startles me, but I decline the call when I see that it’s Sapnap again. This time, my phone buzzes twice after the ringtone. 

**Sapnap:** george, what’s going on???

**Sapnap:** call me when u get this

I delete the notifications immediately. 

When Dream’s mum finally does call, I’ve almost stopped expecting it. I pull my phone out of my pocket, getting ready to deny another call from Sapnap, and my heart stops. 

My hand shakes as I hold the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, George.” I try to read into her voice, to piece some meaning together about Dream’s condition, but I come up blank.

“How is he?”

“Still... the same. Unconscious, not responding to stimuli. According to the doctors, he’s in a coma - he must’ve hit his head  _ hard. _ We-”

Her words cut off as her voice breaks and, all of a sudden, I know exactly what she’s going to say. I find myself internally begging, pleading with her in vain not to finish her sentence. 

_ Don’t say it. Please. Anything but that. _

“We’re not sure if he’s going to make it.”

And, just like that, the universe crashes down around me.

“W - what?” I stammer, even though I heard her just fine. Dream’s mum repeats herself, her voice breaking off with a choked sob at the end, but I barely even hear her. The sound of my pounding heart fills my ears, along with her words, repeating endlessly in my mind.

_ We’re not sure if he’s going to make it. _

I don’t remember our conversation ending, or much of anything for a few minutes after, besides staring at my blank phone screen and listening to Dream’s mum’s voice in my head.

_ We’re not sure if he’s going to make it. _

It doesn’t feel real. Dream, who’s been my best friend for the past five years, is in the hospital? Dream, who knows me better than anyone else in the world, is dying? I half expect to see a text from him light up my phone screen, telling me this has all been a nightmare, or some kind of twisted joke. But deep down I know that no matter how many times I pinch myself, it’s not going to make Dream magically better.

_ We’re not sure - _

My phone’s bright, cheery ringtone makes me feel sick. I hit decline without even glancing at who was calling - probably Sapnap again - and climb into bed with my clothes on. I’m not sure what else to do but lie here, staring at the ceiling or possibly falling into a restless sleep as I wait for updates on my best friend. Who lies in a hospital bed, possibly dying, thousands of kilometers away.

When sunlight begins to stream through my windows, I’m not sure if I’ve gotten any sleep, but I have come to a decision with the most certainty I’ve had since Dream collapsed.

I’m going to Florida.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on posting this tomorrow, but then I got excited :D   
> Huge thanks to everyone who commented, left kudos, or bookmarked this! Y'all made my day :') Next chapter will be out within the next couple of days!


	3. Chapter 3

When I call Dream’s mum to let her know about my plan to see Dream, she offers to pick me up from the airport and let me stay with her family. I talk to my parents as soon as they wake up, and they agree to help cover my plane tickets with barely any pleading on my part. Perhaps it’s the thought of finally having me out of the house for a week that makes them agree.

Most likely it’s my red eyes and inability to get a sentence out before the lump forming in my throat cuts me off.

I book a flight leaving later today, but when I pull out my phone to update Dream’s mum, yet another missed call from Sapnap catches my eye. 

When I got up this morning, I had countless notifications about calls and texts from friends, asking what’s happening, how I’m feeling, if Dream is okay. Some of them were surprising, from people I barely know or old friends I haven’t talked to in years. Focused on planning my trip, I had brushed the messages off, but I feel a pang of regret when I see Sapnap’s name pop up yet again. 

_ Well, I’ve got to talk to him eventually,  _ I think as I call him back. He picks up immediately.

“George.” 

Somehow, Sapnap makes my name sound like an accusation, one that I know is founded in truth. I wince at the familiar anxiety condensed into the single syllable, immediately reminded of my phone calls with Dream’s mum.

“What’s going on? Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

“I’m sorry, I... I was asleep.” 

The lie trips gracelessly out of my mouth, and Sapnap can’t help but scoff. “Sure you were.” 

_ How could I have been so selfish?  _ Sapnap has been friends with Dream for even longer than I have. He’s been just as worried as me, except without a single source of info on Dream, because I’ve been too wrapped up in my own self-pity to bother responding...

I open my mouth, trying to come up with a reply, but Sapnap cuts me off. “Anyway, I’ve got a final in ten minutes, so you better make this quick.”

“I can call you ba-”

“No,” Sapnap interjects firmly. Of course, now that he’s got me on the phone, he won’t let me go in case I decide to stop responding to him again. “What’s happening? Is Dream okay?” His voice softens at the questions, worry surfacing above his frustration.

I take a deep breath and tell him about last night’s events. When I finish, the line goes silent for a moment, and I almost think the call must have disconnected before Sapnap speaks up.

“ _ Fuck. _ ” He sounds dangerously close to tears, and I can feel it pulling me closer to the edge.

“Yeah,” I laugh, but it’s a strange, humorless sound that seems almost mad. “That about sums it up.”

We talk for a few more minutes before Sapnap has to leave. I tell him about my plans to go to Florida, and we try to remain positive, ignoring the false tones in our flakey optimism. 

“Don’t disappear on me again, George,” Sapnap says desperately as we say our goodbyes. “Please.”

I feel another wave of regret wash over me. “I won’t. I promise.”

\--

After our call, I pack my suitcase, but my mind is elsewhere as I haphazardly toss clothes in. I find myself hyper-aware of my phone’s presence in my front pocket, pressing into my leg every time I bend over. Any second it could ring, Dream’s mum calling with the bad news I won’t even let myself consider, so I preoccupy myself with scouring my closet for another clean pair of jeans. Or at least, I attempt to preoccupy myself.

When I finish packing, I still have another hour before Dad and I are going to leave for the airport. I plop down on my unmade bed, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and pull out my phone. My fingers move on instinct, and before I even know what I’m doing, I see the blue loading screen of Twitter pop up.

The app quits before it can even display my feed. I click on it again out of confusion, and I’m accosted by more notifications than I have ever received before.

_ @georgenotfound IS DREAM OKAY??? _

_ i actually cried watching @georgenotfound in last night’s stream. _

_ TALK TO US @georgenotfound _

I scroll through tweet after tweet as if I’m hypnotized by my own face, clipped from the stream, helpless and distraught. 

_ @georgenotfound I hope everything is okay with @dreamwastaken. Sending love, you guys are the best <3 _

_ IF ANYONE HAS INFO ON THE @georgenotfound @dreamwastaken STREAM LAST NIGHT PLS DM ME _

Then...

_ I don’t know who this dream guy is, but I’ve been seeing his name everywhere. Such a pathetic popularity stunt, I can’t believe so many people are falling for it.  _

My free hand curls into a fist as I click on the tweet. The first reply is from the same account.

_ For example, look at this clip from their stream. The acting is laughable, his friend is obviously catering to the audience. It’s pathetic what people do to gain fame these days... _

Acting? My best friend is in the hospital, he could fucking  _ die, _ and this guy thinks I’m  _ acting?! _ He thinks I want to pretend that I’m in this much pain?

I hit the reply button and type up the rudest response I can muster, my thumbs pounding out curses. When my fingers hover above the tweet button, I have to force myself to delete it. To toss my phone to the side. Responding to that dick isn’t going to change the fact that Dream is in the hospital. Dream, who can make me laugh so hard I cry, who’s the first person I text when I’m feeling down, who’s stood by me unconditionally for the past five years...

I bury my head in my hands and let out a strangled sob.

I don’t move until it’s time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not sorry abt the angst hehe
> 
> tysm for reading!! this chapter was a lil shorter bc I wanted to end it at a good stopping point. next chap george is going to florida!!!


	4. Chapter 4

The last time I was in an airport was about five years ago, for a family trip to Spain over the holidays. Although I was 18, I felt filled with the bubbly excitement of a ten-year-old. We don’t travel often, so I wanted to make every moment count - even the long security lines and the kid kicking my seat on the plane.

Now, the nostalgia makes me sick. I want to scream at every couple I pass, suntanned and carefree, their ecstatic children nearly bouncing off the walls. It’s as if they’re all gloating, showing me the trip to Florida I thought I would have.

By the time I’m boarding the plane, I’ve got a pounding headache. I must collapse into my seat a little too dramatically because the kid beside me gives me a weird look. I pretend not to notice his staring.

I thought I’d feel anxious about putting my phone on airplane mode, cutting off all connection with Dream’s mum, but strangely I’m filled with relief. Soaring over the clouds, I’ve got no phone calls to wait for, no bad news that could come at any moment.  _ Dream is alive, and he’s going to get better.  _ It becomes a sort of mantra as my eyelids grow heavy. 

However, everything changes as I drift off into an uneasy sleep, and my unconscious mind wanders into a potential future I haven’t let myself consider. A world without Dream. I struggle to even imagine it - it was already strange to wake up this morning without a text from him, describing an exciting new plugin idea or getting annoyed with me for sleeping when he wants to stream together. Yet this could be every morning of the rest of my life. No Dream to come to when I’ve got a new video idea, or my parents are pissing me off, or I’m feeling down, or I just want to spend a couple of hours laughing and placing blocks. I’ve only known Dream for five years, yet he slipped into my life so seamlessly that sometimes I forget that there was a time before he was my best friend. 

I wander aimlessly through the dense forests and snow-topped mountains of my dream world. Sometimes I drift back into my airplane seat before returning to a desolate desert or an endless ocean, but no matter where I am or how far I’ve traveled, I’m still alone.

When I finally awaken, the boy beside me is playing pocket edition on his phone. After my strange dreams on this strange plane heading far away from home, Minecraft is such a familiar sight that I can’t help but look on as he skips through a desert. It’s comforting.

I try to watch as subtly as possible, keeping his phone screen in the corner of my eye as the boy starts building a nether portal in a lava pool. He switches between water and lava slowly and clumsily, catching himself on fire multiple times while forming just a few blocks of obsidian. 

“You know, there’s an easier way to do that, right?” The boy glances over at me in surprise when I speak. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, you can build an upside-down L, and then place the water next to it-” I cut off when I notice how confused he looks, although it might be just because this strange exhausted man is now explaining Minecraft to him. “Well, maybe it’s easier if I show you.”

He hands over his phone and watches attentively as I run through the same steps Dream had taught me a month ago. Place dirt in an L here, place water there, then place lava in the shape of the portal. It normally worked perfectly, but this time I couldn’t get the last block of obsidian to form. “It’s supposed to work,” I say as I place and take away the lava for the third time. _What am I doing?_ Dream should be here, helping this kid. He’d be able to build the stupid portal correctly, after laughing at my attempt and teasing me about what I did wrong... 

I blink, and the blocks blur together.  _ Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. _

“I’m sorry, I guess I messed up somewhere. My friend knows how to do this better than I do.” I hand his phone back to him, and I feel so, so stupid.

“It’s okay,” he replies. “That’s still way faster than how I was doing it.” 

The boy stares at me for a moment longer before returning to his game, and I look away, deciding to watch Titanic on the screen of a woman a few rows up instead.

\--

As soon as I exit the plane after the seemingly endless ride, I realize I’ve made a grave mistake. 

I  _ knew  _ Florida was hot. I knew Dream would be going swimming around this time of year. I knew he’d be complaining about sunburns and his apartment building’s shitty AC. 

And yet, all of this somehow slipped my mind when I tossed together my clothing for this trip. Within minutes, my black shirt is sticking to my skin as I awkwardly balance carrying a duffel bag and an unneeded sweatshirt while pressing my phone to my ear to call Dream’s mum. As I search for her car - which takes a while because apparently I used the least convenient airport exit, of course - I squint in the sunlight, shielding my eyes with my hand.

Not wanting to waste time, I move as quickly as possible as I scan the cars for one that matches Dream’s mum’s description **.** I’m in such a rush; it’s only after I spot her car that I realize that I have no idea what I’m going to say. I’m sorry? Thank you? No words seem quite right, but before I can sort through my thoughts, she rolls down the window and waves. I jog towards her car.

Dream’s mum smiles at me as I approach, but when she takes off her sunglasses I notice that the grin doesn’t quite reach her blotchy eyes. “Hi,” I say as I open the door, pretending I’m not slightly out of breath from the short jog to her car.

“Hi, George,” she replies, sizing me up for a moment before adjusting her tight, grey streaked ponytail in the rearview mirror. Despite their redness, her eyes have a hint of sparkle when she adds, “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you. Clay’s famous boyfriend.”

“Oh, my god,” I groan, flushing red as she laughs. “I’m neither of those things.”

“Well, you’re famous in our household.” Dream’s mum pulls out of the airport parking lot, putting her sunglasses back on. I want to ask whether my “fame” means that Dream used to talk about me, but she goes on before I get a chance. “We’re going straight to the hospital, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” I blurt, nearly interrupting her. “Of course. Thank you so much for picking me up, and giving me a place to stay, and-”

“It’s nothing,” she says, and although she means it, I can hear the familiar tones of pain return to her voice. “Clay would’ve wanted me to. He would be so happy that you’re here.”

She takes a turn too fast, and I have to hold onto my cupholder for balance.

“He  _ will  _ be so happy that you’re here,” she adds, before quickly changing the subject. 

I feel stupid for wasting time worrying about what to say. Dream’s mum makes conversation the whole trip, as we zip down back roads well over the speed limit and her fingers tap complicated rhythms on the steering wheel at stoplights. We talk about Minecraft, and Youtube, and creepy fans, our conversation dancing around Dream’s interests yet always avoiding Dream himself. With the windows down and a cool breeze rushing by, it feels easy to ignore why I’m here. To pretend she’s just giving me a lift to Dream’s apartment, where he’ll be waiting to give me a big hug and show me around Orlando.

“Dan and I - Dan is my husband, by the way - we used to  _ hate _ you,” Dream’s mum says with a little chuckle, albeit forced, as we near the end of the car ride. 

“Hmm? What?” Every time we pass a sign for the hospital, I lose my focus on what she’s saying.

“Well, we always _knew_ that Clay was up all night playing video games. There wasn’t much we could do about that - believe me, we tried to stop it. Then when he met you...” We turn into the hospital parking lot. “You guys would, like, egg each other on. All of a sudden, he’d be shouting or dying laughing at three a.m. It drove us _crazy._ Dan would go yell at him, and it would always be ‘sorry, George fell in lava,’ or ‘sorry, the dragon knocked George off a cliff.’”

I remember those nights, when we first started playing together. Most of the time, Dream would whisper to avoid waking anyone up, but he’d make the occasional mistake of shouting when things got intense.

Dream’s mum continues as she pulls into a parking spot. “But, secretly, I didn’t mind it as much as I pretended to. He never really settled down after we moved, never really made new friends, and it was so nice to hear him  _ laugh. _ ” 

She puts the car into park. I’m not sure how to respond, but when she looks over at me, somehow I know that returning her smile is enough. 

“Thank you, George.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading <3 <3 <3


	5. Chapter 5

I’ve been daydreaming of today for years.

Don’t get me wrong, meeting up in person was never that important to Dream and me. The kilometers between us seem to vanish when we hang out in Minecraft, and I firmly believe that distance doesn’t determine the strength of a friendship. 

But at the same time, I’d be lying if I said I never imagined visiting him. The hugs, the laughter, the teasing. Dream is the younger brother I never had, the best friend I longed for in high school, and although I value our internet friendship, sometimes I just want to do normal friend things. I would imagine him with me when I pass a laughing group of friends on the street, or when a joke I make falls flat that I know he would’ve appreciated.

I’ve pictured our first in-person interaction hundreds of times since we met online. And never,  _ never _ did it look even remotely like this.

As I follow a doctor though the twisting hallways of the hospital, accompanied by Dream’s mum, I feel slightly nervous. As if I’m intruding into Dream’s privacy. As if I’m ruining something sacred by taking away our opportunity to have a normal first meeting.

But then I remember that Dream might not even be  _ alive _ for us to have a normal first meeting, and the white hospital walls seem to spin around me as I focus on his mum’s swishing ponytail. I nearly bump into her when she pulls up short, before entering a door on our right. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I want to see Dream in this state - or if he would even want me to - but when Dream’s mum glances back at me, I can tell that it’s too late to change my mind. I take a deep breath before entering the room.

And then I’m staring at him, and the rest of the world fades away because here I am with my best friend in the whole world and he looks so... so...

_ So small.  _ It’s the first thing I notice about the figure lying unconscious on the bed. I’m used to imagining Dream towering over me, and even beyond physical size, his personality has always taken up so much space. Now, he barely takes up any space at all.

I stand, frozen, as Dream’s mum slips into the chair beside his bed with a sigh. I study his shaggy blonde hair while she reaches forward to hold the hand nearest to her. 

“Hey, Clay,” she says softly, tenderly, as if speaking to a skittish deer. “I’m back, again.”

She goes silent, as if expecting him to respond, and my eyes trace the outline of his bumpy nose. 

“But this time, I brought you a friend,” Dream’s mum continues, and I watch her glance back at me out of the corner of my eye. “A special visitor.”

His face looks almost angelic. Calm, peaceful, free from all emotion.

“I should give you boys some alone time. I’m sure you’re getting sick of hearing me talk,” she tells Dream, before brushing by me. “I’ll be back in a sec, Clay,” Dream’s mum calls over her shoulder as she leaves, and it feels so ridiculous. No one is listening.

I want to scream, to run after her.  _ Don’t leave me alone in here, with this lifeless figure that’s supposed to be my best friend! _ However, I somehow manage to hold my ground, relaxing when I realize that I can see his chest rise and fall with steady breaths.  _ In, out. In, out.  _ It’s a reminder that he’s still alive, that Dream is still somewhere deep inside this body.

I drop into the chair beside his bed.

After a moment, I reach out to grab his hand, just like his mum did, but I wince and recoil as soon as my fingers close around his. The hands that once danced across his keyboard, occasionally slamming the table in frustration or laughter, now feel so limp that I can’t bring myself to touch them. I’m not sure how Dream’s mum did it.

_ What am I supposed to do?  _ Talk to him? That’s what people do in movies, anyway. But my exhausted “Hey, Dream,” seems to echo off the walls around me, emphasizing the silence that follows. Can he even hear me? His face is so emotionless that I can’t convince myself of it.

Eventually, I settle for trying to piece together the Dream I know from the one lying in front of me. Although I know his voice like the back of my hand, and although he’s right here with me, I realize that I have no idea what Dream looks like normally. When he’s talking and laughing, when he’s full of emotion. Sure, I occasionally glimpse pieces of his face in the silly videos he sends me, but I’ve never had a conversation with him and been able to watch him respond.

Just a few days ago, I didn’t think that seeing each other’s faces mattered, but now it feels like the most important thing in the world. Like I don’t fully know him, like the puzzle that is Dream is incomplete without this integral piece. 

I do my best to fill in the blanks. I picture how he must look when he’s escaping from the hunters, brows furrowed, lips pursed slightly in concentration. I picture the way his mouth must open up in a huge grin, his eyes crinkling as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe. I picture the way the corners of his lips must turn slightly up when he’s chasing me and we both know it’s over, like in our last conversation before this mess began.

I find myself inexplicably stuck on his eyes. I’ll never be able to see their true shade of green, but I want to get as close as I can with my faulty vision. Are they the color of an evergreen tree? Or the bluish shade of a murky pond? Are there little flecks of hazel in them, as if his eyes had been dusted in cinnamon?

My eyes prick with tears. Somehow, this tiny detail seems to be the most important in the world. How could I not know the color of my own best friend’s eyes?

I finally settle on the shade of his mum’s eyes - which I think are a deep green, although I can never be sure - and pair it with the expressions I’m building in my mind. I try to frame each one, in case I never get to see it for real.  _ This is what he looks like when he’s pissed. This is what he looks like when he’s teasing you. This is what he looks like when he’s exhausted. _

I’m not sure how long I sit there before Dream’s mum returns, accompanied by a tall, stoic man who must be his father. I figure it’s my turn to give them some space, so I leave the room, mumbling something about getting fresh air. I retrace my steps through the hospital and take a deep breath when I finally exit the building, Dream’s face still flashing in front of my eyes whenever I blink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i updated the total number of chapters for this fic! as long as nothing changes, there should be 16, so there's LOTS more to come :) thanks for reading <3


	6. Chapter 6

“Hello?”

I open my mouth to speak, but to my surprise, no words come out.

“George?”

His voice is so familiar, so comforting after I’ve spent the past few hours far away from home and surrounded by strangers. I blink, and tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them.

“George, you there?”

I sniffle. “Hey, hey Sapnap,” I manage to choke out.

“Oh, George.” Sapnap’s tone softens, and I know I’ve done a bad job at hiding the fact that I’m crying. “How is he?”

“He’s... he’s...”

Before I know it, I’m spilling out every moment of the past few hours as I sit on a shady bench near the entrance to the hospital. People give me some strange looks as they pass, but I barely even notice. My world consists of only Sapnap and I and the words we share.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Sapnap says when I finish venting. “I’m supposed to be studying and acing my finals - all of my college friends are - but all I can think about is  _ him. _ ”

I hum in understanding as I dry my cheeks with a sleeve of my sweatshirt.

“Like, I think I failed my calc final yesterday. I just - I couldn’t focus,” Sapnap sounds dangerously close to crying too, if he isn’t already. “I can’t go to Florida because I’ve got to finish school here, but I can’t even do that well because I’m constantly filled with this... this  _ anxiety... _ ”

I think about the night I spent staring at the ceiling, consumed with worry. “I know what you mean.”

We talk until I realize that I should probably find Dream’s mum before she starts to wonder where I went. We say our goodbyes, but before I can hang up, Sapnap interrupts.

“Wait, George!”

“Yeah?” My eyes impatiently flit to the hospital’s main entrance.

“Have you... have you checked Twitter recently?”

“Not since before my flight.” For the first time in hours, I think of the tweet proposing that this is all a scam. My hand tightens on the phone. 

“You should really check Twitter.” 

Sapnap’s simple request irks me. “Listen, I know clips from the stream are still going to be everywhere, and fans are still going to be freaking out, and some idiots are still going to be fucking-”

“George,” Sapnap interrupts, and something in his voice makes me listen. “Dude, you should really check Twitter.”

“Okay,” I relent, my words laced with irritation. “Okay! I will. Anything else?”

I wasn’t asking seriously, but Sapnap responds, “You should probably make a statement to your fans. They deserve it.”

I don’t want to open Twitter. I know what I’m going to find there, and I don’t want to see it. But something in Sapnap’s tone causes my curiosity to get the best of me. As soon as we hang up, I’m watching the white bird on my screen as the app loads.

The first tweet that pops up is from Sapnap.

_Everything that happened on George’s stream last night_ _was real, and Dream is currently in the hospital after suffering a head injury. Out of respect for Dream and his family, I can’t give out any more information at this time, but George and I will keep you updated on his condition._

_ Thank you guys for your concern over Dream. You clearly care about him a lot, and I’m sure he would appreciate it. That being said, please don’t spam George and I with questions. We will give you as much info as we can. _

The replies are almost entirely supportive, but a few ask why he was tweeting instead of me. I scroll past those quickly with a pang of guilt, remembering Sapnap’s words.  _ Make a statement to your fans. They deserve it. _

Judging from my huge pile of notifications, people aren’t exactly listening to Sapnap’s request to not spam us. I take a deep breath before scrolling through my mentions.

_ @georgenotfound ARE U ACTUALLY IN FLORIDA??!! _

I have to read over the words multiples times before it sinks in. _ How on Earth do people know? _

_ @georgenotfound going to florida means this must be serious... i’m so scared guys _

_ WE KNOW YOU ARE VISITING DREAM @georgenotfound TELL US WHAT’S GOING ON _

_ @georgenotfound looks so sad :(( this picture broke my heart. _

I freeze at the sight of the photo attached to the last tweet. It shows me, standing up, arms above my head as I take my duffel bag out of the overhead bin. The photo must’ve been taken just after the plane landed, from one of the inner seats of my row...

_ No way. That kid with the nether portal? _

It only takes a couple minutes of searching for me to find the original tweet.

_ thought this guy looked familiar, then he taught me a trick to building a nether portal... is this @georgenotfound ??!! can anyone confirm?? _

It was so painfully, obviously me. Fans had confirmed it instantly and bombarded the kid, asking where the plane landed. 

His response had been retweeted hundreds of times.

I groan, zooming in on my face in the photo. Even without the added info that I was traveling to Dream, it’s evident that something is very wrong. The unflattering lighting makes my pale skin look ghostly, emphasizing the dark circles under my eyes. I have this vacant stare, as if I’m lost in thought... which I must’ve been to not notice this kid taking a picture of me.

No wonder I’ve got so many notifications, despite Sapnap’s pleas to not bombard me. They know I’m here, they know I’ve never visited Dream before, so they know this must be serious. 

And they know that I’m avoiding telling them anything.

I begin to draft a tweet, but I can’t get further than a pathetic “hey guys.”  _ What am I supposed to say?  _ Am I supposed to comfort them? Reassure them? Or tell the truth, that I’m scared out of my mind for my best friend? When nothing comes to mind after a few minutes, I click off my phone.

The dark circles under my eyes in the photo reveal more than I would tell them, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sapnap returns <3


	7. Chapter 7

Despite the tension that hangs palpably in the air, Dream’s house bursts into a flurry of motion as soon as we arrive. I feel lost and more than a little out of place as I watch his family flit by me, everyone with their own purpose. Unceremoniously, I plop down onto the couch, tossing my duffel bag at my feet.

Dream’s siblings arrived at the hospital shortly after Sapnap and I ended our call, but I haven’t spoken to them at all besides a few introductions. Even when I was sandwiched in between Dream’s younger brothers on the car ride back to their house, everyone remained painfully silent. I guess we were all too caught up in our own thoughts and memories to notice the others.

Now that we’re at their house, I occupy myself by watching Dream’s family members, searching for any signs of familiarity in these strangers. Was that Dream’s laugh? Dream’s groan? Dream’s sigh of frustration? Or am I reading too far into this, creating connections where there are none?

When Dream’s sister plops herself down into a chair across the room from me, I realize I look like a creep as I silently watch her family’s life. Hastily pulling out my laptop, I click into Minecraft on instinct and start an aimless survival world. I try to use it to distract myself, willing myself to think of anything but  _ him _ as I explore.

Almost immediately, I can tell my efforts are in vain. Dream is everywhere. I see him in valleys full of sheep, in never-ending oceans, in cliffside villages. Every new memory that resurfaces feels like a punch to my gut. I’d do anything, absolutely  _ anything,  _ to go back to those moments.

I find myself giving in to my nostalgia, navigating to Youtube as I pull my headphones out of my bag. Usually, I can’t stand to watch old videos as I always end up cringing at myself. Although the videos are just as painful now, it’s for a different reason. I end up replaying the same clip from the x-ray series where Dream is dying laughing, thinking about how much I took the sound of his voice for granted. His teasing, his screams, his wheezes. I even miss the sound of him banging the table in frustration. 

I’m so wrapped up in my longing that it takes me a second to realize that Dream’s sister - who introduced herself as Bella earlier today - is talking to me. I take off my headphones. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I just said hey, GeorgeNotFound.” She smirks as if my username is some sort of inside joke between us. “You’re hilarious, by the way. I love your videos.”

“Thanks,” I say. I hadn’t realized Dream’s siblings kept up with his Youtube channel. 

“Don’t tell Clay this, but I watch all of his videos as soon as they come out. I’m, like, his biggest fan, but I’d never admit it to him.”

“I’m sure Dream would appreciate it,” I offer.

“No way.” The expression on her face is comical, and I can’t help but laugh. “It’s embarrassing.”

For a few moments, it had felt like everything was normal, like Dream could walk downstairs at any moment and smile at me, making a face at Bella. But then it hits me that her gushing is too vibrant, my laugh too loud. It’s as if we’re walking on a tightrope of pretending everything is fine, helping each other balance because we fear what lies beneath us.

“Wait, do you actually call him Dream? Like, outside of videos?”

“Yeah. I mean...” Dream had only told me his name because I had been bugging him about it. I claimed it was unfair for him to keep it a secret because he had known mine from the very beginning, but really I was just so,  _ so  _ curious. 

Dream had given me his full name, even though I was only asking for his first. He had said it softly, carefully, as if he was handing over a fragile gift. I treated it the same way, like a secret that must be stored away, although since then he’s become a popular Youtuber and thousands of people know that Dream is named Clay.

“...it’s just what we’ve always done,” I finish lamely.

Bella wrinkles her nose. “That’s weird. Dream isn’t even a name.”

I open my mouth to respond, but she suddenly tosses the book she was reading down onto the coffee table. “Hey, do you want to see his room?”

“Dream’s?”

“Yeah, come on.”

As I follow her up the carpeted stairs, I formulate my argument for why this is weird, for why I can’t just stroll into my best friend’s childhood bedroom while he lies in a hospital bed, unconscious and oblivious. However, my curiosity overpowers this, and none of the words leave my mouth. At this point, I’m desperate for any additional pieces of Dream I can find, so I follow Bella through the plain white door without hesitation.

The first thing I notice is the books. They’re practically spilling out of his single bookshelf, and I spot them littered around his room in other places as well. A couple on his desk, a couple on his bedside table, and a few in a stack next to his closet.

Funny. Dream never mentioned that he liked to read so much.

“Mom’s been meaning to turn it into a guest room, but we’ve never gotten around to it.” Bella is talking, but I’m only half-listening as my eyes explore every nook and cranny of the small room. “I guess he just moved out so suddenly that we all expected him to come back within months, or maybe a year at most. So we left his room the way it was.”

I run my hands over the back of his wooden chair. This is where Dream was sitting when we first met, and started messaging, and then playing together...

“After that year passed, I think I knew he wasn’t coming back. But then he started putting hours into his Youtube channel, and he quit his job when he started to blow up...” Bella snorts as my fingers trace the spines of Dream’s books. “Dad was so pissed about that. He was convinced that Clay was going to come running home any moment, begging for money... I guess that’s the real reason he’s been gone for years, and we’ve left his room exactly as it was.”

I’m about to respond when my eyes reach the picture, and everything else melts away.

It’s taped to a mirror propped up at the edge of the desk, surrounded by a few other photos of Dream smiling with friends and family. I walk towards it as if I’m in a trance, brushing my fingers over the computer printout.

I barely even remember sending the photo. It was taken years ago, when I was still a freshman or sophomore in college. I had found a pair of cheap clout goggles at a drugstore that matched the ones on my Minecraft skin and taken a couple of goofy selfies, sending one to Dream. I haven’t thought about the photo since.

And yet here it is, taped to Dream’s mirror.

“He’s had that up for forever,” Bella says, peering over my shoulder. “To be honest, we - I mean, Clay’s brothers and I - used to make fun of him for it. He’d always get so annoyed at our teasing...”

_ He’s had that up for forever.  _ A random photo that I sent to all my close Minecraft friends, that meant nothing to me, has been in his room for years. I didn’t know that four years ago, I had already meant enough to Dream to earn a place next to his family in his little collection of photos...

“I should’ve told him how much I love his videos.” Bella gently breaks the silence of our thoughts. “Our family was always... well, no one ever explicitly  _ discouraged  _ his Youtube career, but no one supported it either.”

I know exactly what she’s talking about. My parents are the same way.

“I should’ve told him how much I missed him,” Bella shakily goes on. “After he moved... nothing was the same. Our parents expected him to come home, but I  _ longed  _ for it, even though I know it’s the last thing he would’ve wanted, even though I know he would’ve considered himself a failure afterwards. We used to do so much together, but when he moved out, we just... drifted.

“I should’ve told him how heartbreaking that was, but I just -” she breaks off when her voice cracks, and in the sudden silence I’m not sure what to say. Instead, I awkwardly reach out to hug her, painfully aware that I’m practically a stranger. Despite that, she launches herself into my arms.

_ And how about me? _ The things that I may never get to say to Dream? I haven’t even started compiling that endless list. Dream has always been so good with words, possessing that magical ability of being able to articulate exactly how he feels. I’ve received dozens of sweet messages from him, only to fumble awkwardly with a reply that never seems to quite encompass how happy he makes me, how appreciative I am of him, how much I love him.

_ “C’mon, George, say it! It’s just four words - ‘I love you, Dream.’” _

I gulp. “I know how you feel.” 

I can’t justify why I never said it, even though I felt it, even though he was pushing me to. Sure, I could claim that I didn’t want people to think I was in love with him. Or that I didn’t want people to make a big deal over it. However, neither those extend to when it was just us playing Minecraft, when I’d change the subject and Dream would laugh despite sounding hurt.

It didn’t seem like a big deal when we had the rest of our lives to be best friends. Now, it matters more than anything.

Bella pulls away, and I notice that my shirt is damp with tears. “Sorry,” she murmurs, wiping her eyes with her palms.

“It’s okay,” I say. When she meets my eyes, I can tell she knows that I mean it.

“I should...” Bella gestures vaguely with her hands. “Homework. Yeah, I need to do homework.” 

Before I follow her out, I give one last look around Dream’s old room, trying to memorize all the details. I run my thumb over the photo next to the one of me, in which Dream and Bella laugh hysterically at some joke. I can practically hear Dream's ridiculous wheeze in my head as I study his crooked grin.

“I love you, Dream,” I murmur before leaving his room, closing the door behind me with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meant to post this yesterday but I've been busier than usual & this chap took foreverrrrr to edit :')
> 
> huge thanks to everyone who has given kudos, commented, bookmarked, or subscribed!! when i posted the first chapter, i thought that MAYBE 15 people would read it if i was lucky, so i'm v shocked that this now has 175+ kudos... sometimes i'll just stare at this story's stats like :0 i've never posted my writing online before so this is super exciting & i'm so glad y'all are enjoying this fic!! every comment makes me so happy :D


	8. Chapter 8

I sleep on the couch that night, for which Dream’s mum apologizes over and over. The ancient air mattress in their basement ended up having a hole in it, and the only other place to sleep was Dream’s old room. His mum offered it to me, but I shook my head vigorously in response. _Fuck_ _no_ , I’m not staying in the childhood bedroom of my best friend while he lies unconscious in the hospital. The thought alone makes me feel sick.

I end up falling asleep while watching Dream’s old videos, and my laptop still rests heavily on my stomach when I jerk awake to a sudden clanging.

“Sorry.” Dream’s mum grimaces when I sit up, her hands wrapped around a large metal bowl. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘sokay. I was already awake,” I lie, stifling a yawn. The world around me feels foggy as I emerge from the placid wisps of my dreams. I remember bits and pieces of streaming with Dream and Sapnap, the kind of moments that had seemed mundane just a few days ago but have now become some sort of fairytale.

_ Dream could die.  _ I have to repeat it over and over again before it sinks in, dragging me back down to reality.

Dream’s mum flits around the kitchen making breakfast as I slowly work up the motivation to get off the couch. I offer to help, trying to be polite, but she declines with a strained smile. Judging from Bella’s raised eyebrows when she comes downstairs, Dream’s mum rarely ever makes breakfast for them, and I can’t help but wonder if the change is because I’m there or if it’s simply to distract her from her anxiety about Dream. 

Despite Dream’s mum’s attempts to lighten the mood, the rest of her family and I sit in sullen silence throughout breakfast and the car ride back to the hospital. Even Bella doesn’t talk to me except to say good morning, but I almost prefer the quiet to having to stumble through conversations, distracted by the constant stream of worry running through my mind.

Feeling out of place among Dream’s siblings, I give his family space when we arrive by saying I need to make some phone calls outside. I had meant it as an excuse, but as I lean against the brick wall of the hospital, I find myself scrolling through my many unanswered messages from the past few days. The pain in Sapnap’s voice after I ignored his calls loops through my mind as I click through the texts, watching the names of our friends flash before my eyes.  _ Bad. Ponk. Skeppy _ . Sapnap has probably already explained the situation to every one of them by now, knowing that I would be ignoring their texts the same way I ignored his.

_ Better late than never,  _ I think with a pang of guilt as I hit call, reaching out to everyone who sent me a message in the past few days. By the time I finish, I’m filled to the brim with the worried voices of others, and I’m fairly sure I’ve gotten a sunburn from standing outdoors, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

When I finally enter the hospital, I get to see Dream almost immediately. Dream’s mum leaves us alone again, taking some of the family with her to grab lunch. It’s as if she thinks I need to be able to cry or spill out my heart to Dream without anyone else around, and I feel a little guilty for using the time to simply sit and stare at him. When I start having to pinch myself to stay awake, I feel even worse. My two nights with barely any rest are catching up to me.

I must end up drowsing off, because I suddenly snap awake with the feeling that something is different, something is  _ wrong.  _ In a panic, my eyes scan the room, before I notice it.

_ In... out, in... outin... out in... _

Dream’s breathing changed. It was always soft and consistent, marking the time I spent by his side like the ticking of a clock, but now it’s ragged. And heavy.

I stand up so quickly that dark spots dance in front of my eyes.  _ What do I do?  _ Dream’s mouth is twisted in a grimace, his eyes moving slightly under his lids as if he’s in the middle of a nightmare.

_ Oh my god, what do I do? _ In my panic, my thoughts twist into a tangled mess as I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans.  _ Oh my god ohmygod, he could be dying... I don’t want to watch him die I should get help yes a doctor or someone... _

I start towards the door but find myself hesitating at the thought of leaving Dream here, all alone in this strange room. I give one last look behind me, intending to run out a second later, but... but then...

I’m staring into his eyes. And they’re not the deep, dark shade I expected, but the vibrant color of sunlit trees. They focus on me for a split second, blinking, confused, and I stare back until his eyelids begin to droop back down, startling me out of my trance.

“ _ Dream! _ ” I nearly shout it as I race to the chair next to his bed, stumbling and stubbing my toe on one of the legs in my hurry.

“George?” It’s faint and somewhat garbled, but Dream’s lips moved, and it was definitely his voice. 

“Dream!” I think of all the things I so desperately want to tell him, the words that were so clear in my mind last night, but my thoughts jumble together and the only thing that comes out of my mouth is his name. I repeat it anxiously. “Dream?!”

“I’m still dreaming...” he murmurs, more clearly this time, and I watch with panic as his eyelids slip shut once again.

“Dream! I’m here!” He just came back. I can’t let him leave again. “Dream, I’m really here!”

Silence swallows my words, and when I finally stop talking, Dream’s steady breaths once again mark the passing minutes. As I come to my senses, I realize that I had grabbed onto his hand in my desperation to prove that I was really sitting next to him. 

_ Dream was here.  _ As I uncurl my shaky fingers from his and gently place his hand by his side, I repeat the thought to myself until it slowly sinks in. I sit back into my chair, watching my panic steadily evaporate into the sunlight that streaks through the room as it’s replaced by something else. Something I haven’t let myself feel since I first stepped off the plane in Florida.

_ Hope. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooohhh things are looking up ;)
> 
> sorryyyyy for the mini hiatus!! since we're about half way through, i figured i'd take some time to focus on finalizing the second half of this story bc it was much less ready to be posted than the first half. but now i should be all good & back to posting every couple of days until we reach the end!! <3


	9. Chapter 9

I’m not sure whether it’s minutes or seconds before a few doctors stream into Dream’s room, kicking me out as politely as they can. They seem pleased, maybe even ecstatic at the new development, telling me that this is a step in the right direction as they usher me out. I nod silently as I try to wrap my head around the fact that my best friend was here,  _ here _ , and then gone again within a few minutes.

Dream’s mum bombards me with questions as soon as I return to the waiting room, her eyes wide and lively.

“Did he say anything? What did he say?” 

“Um...” Dream’s parents and all three of his siblings have their eyes trained on me, eagerly following my every word. I glance at each of them in turn before focusing on Dream’s mum, who leans forward in her chair. “He said my name, and then that he was dreaming. At least, I think, I couldn’t really underst-”

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him that he wasn’t dreaming.” I feel myself flushing red as I look down at her shoes. It sounds pathetic now that I’m explaining it out loud, and Dream’s mum’s voice is tinged with disappointment when she responds.

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.” Despite my lack of information, I end up having to repeat the story at least three times, wishing it had been her with Dream instead of me. When I finally manage to escape to get lunch, I feel like I’m about to suffocate in the stale hospital air. Dream’s mum gives me recommendations for nearby restaurants, but I end up ordering a burger from the first fast food place I see, my mind still swirling. I barely even taste the food as I eat, watching cars zip by the window next to my booth but only really seeing Dream’s lost, unfocused eyes.

As I leave the restaurant, my phone buzzes, taking me by surprise. The text is from Dream’s mum, telling me that Dream was conscious again, this time for longer, and that the doctors are very optimistic about his condition. With the sun shining and a breeze ruffling my hair, I can feel some of my anxiety seeping reluctantly out of the soles of my shoes. 

_ Dream is going to be okay. _ I hadn’t allowed myself that thought since the plane ride, not even when I watched him wake up before my eyes. I had been so worried about harboring false hope that I had almost convinced myself that Dream’s condition was a death sentence.

As I walk down the crowded city street, I want to shout, I want to jump, I want to sing. I settle with calling Sapnap, keeping my promise.

“No way, dude!” he practically yells after I give him the news, and I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

“Yeah,” I add, “And Dream’s mum just texted me that the doctors are  _ very _ optimistic about his condition.”

“That’s... oh my god. That’s amazing.” Even though I can’t see Sapnap, I can hear his smile through the phone speaker and feel the relief that radiates off of him in waves. “Did you get to talk to him?”

“I mean, kinda, but it was so quick. Dream was pretty out of it.” A giggle escapes my lips even though nothing is particularly funny, and Sapnap joins in, the two of us laughing out of sheer joy. I float back to the hospital and through a few monotonous hours of doctors checking up on Dream and running tests. By the evening, it’s pretty much confirmed that he will live - at least, that’s what Dream’s mum tells me, her lips twisting into a smile between every word. I open Twitter for the first time since Sapnap told me to, quickly deleting my drafts from this morning as a new tweet flies out of my fingers.

_ Dream is stable and recovering quickly. Thank you for all the support <3  _

I refresh Twitter, grinning stupidly down at my phone screen as the tweet explodes. Replies pour in, ranging from long, heartfelt messages to all-cap excitement filled with nonsensical keyspams.

I feel the absolute joy contained in every message I read. It all seems too good to be true - just this morning, I was sullenly eating the pancakes Dream’s mum made, and now everything is going to be okay. I’m going to be able to hear Dream laugh again, hear him tease me. I’m going to hear the excitement in his voice as he explains a new video idea, and the frustration when we fail to complete a challenge.

Not only that, but I’ll be able to  _ see _ him _. _ We’ll finally get to hang out in person and do normal best friend stuff, just like I’ve always wanted.

“-might be nice for him to have some familiar faces.” I tune back into what Dream’s doctor is telling his family and me.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Dream’s mum nods along, before turning to me. “You coming, George?”

“Sorry... what?” My face burns as I realize I’ve daydreamed through nearly all of their conversation.

“Clay’s room. He’s awake, and the doctors want to talk him through what’s going on,” Dream’s mum explains. “They thought it might be helpful to have some family and friends with him to support him.”

“I’m...” I start, but Dream’s mum is already beckoning me to follow her down the hall.

I file into the back of the room, feeling out of place amongst Dream’s parents and siblings. As Dream’s mum sits down in the chair next to his bed, I cross my arms over my chest awkwardly, leaning against the back wall. 

A doctor with dark hair in a neat bun walks Dream through what happened to him, but I can tell he’s not really listening. His eyes dart around the room too quickly, rarely landing on the woman speaking, as if he’s still trying to make sense of his surroundings.

“Now, although it’s not severe, the damage to your executive functions may cause you to feel emotionally different post-accident, with mood swings, heightened anxiety, and...”

I tune the doctor out, focusing on Dream instead. Rocking back and forth on my heels, I watch him fiddle with the edge of his shirt as his eyes flit from person to person to -

_ Me.  _ Dream’s eyes widen in disbelief when they meet mine, and for a moment everyone else in the room disappears. He looks away after I give him an awkward little wave, but continues to glance over at me in between nodding along to the doctor’s words. It’s as if he needs to prove to himself every few minutes that I’m really here, that I didn’t vanish into thin air. I start making subtle faces at him whenever he looks over, scrunching up my nose or rolling my eyes back into their sockets, watching him struggle to maintain a straight face as he pretends to be listening.

When the doctor finishes, we’re quickly ushered out to give Dream space, but space seems to be the last thing he needs. I glance over my shoulder at the door, and Dream opens his mouth for a moment before closing it again, as if he was going to say something to me. I desperately want to go back and sit beside him, but I know I can’t possibly make his whole family wait. It’s late, we still need to eat dinner, and Dream’s siblings are complaining about being starving.

I settle with giving Dream another little wave, which he returns half-heartedly after a moment.  _ We’ll talk tomorrow, _ I remind myself, as if he can hear my thoughts, and I find that it’s all that I can think about as I drift through dinner and into my first full night’s sleep in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lil happy chapter for y'all <333 the boys will finally get to talk in the next update i promiseee
> 
> also i cAn't with twitter rn guys... i don't know what to BELIEVE ahHH


	10. Chapter 10

I pause before I enter his room, lingering hesitantly in the hallway of the hospital. Dream doesn’t notice me, his eyes fixed on the glimpse of the outdoors he gets through the window. Someone has pushed back his curtains, giving him a view of the rolling white clouds and the drizzle of water that snakes down the glass. He’s awake, but he looks so still and serene that I can almost convince myself he’s a statue. That is, until he glances over when I enter, and his eyes widen.

“George?” Dream says my name uncertainly, even though I’m standing right in front of him, and I can’t help but notice that his voice sounds smaller in person. I suddenly feel nervous as I move towards the chair by his bed, as if I’m approaching a stranger with a glint of my best friend in his tone.

“Hey... hey Clay.” The name rolls awkwardly off my tongue like I’m speaking a foreign language. 

Dream grimaces immediately. “You can still call me Dream, you know? Even though we’re in person.”

“Okay. Dream,” I correct. I’m used to Dream plunging ahead when we talk, but for a moment he’s silent. I squirm in my seat as he watches me, wondering what’s going through his mind.

Probably exactly what went through mine the first time I saw him. He’s trying to convince himself that I’m really GeorgeNotFound, and that I’m really sitting next to him.

“Imagine how crazy Twitter would get if they knew you were here right now,” Dream finally says, breaking our silence. The corner of his mouth turns up into a smirk, as if he didn’t almost die, as if Twitter would be shipping us right now, not concerned for his life...

“Oh god...” Something in my voice gives it away, and Dream sits up a little straighter.

“George! You told them?”

“Well, no -”

“Then how do they know?”

“It was an accident...” I tell Dream about the kid on the plane, watching his eyes sparkle and his mouth twist into a lopsided grin. He finds the story hilarious - probably because he’s so bored that  _ anything _ can be hilarious - and as soon as he laughs, any tension that was in the room dissipates. I can almost hear the pieces clicking together in my mind as it finally sinks in that the man in front of me is Dream, my best friend.

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” he says when I finish.

“Shut up,” I reply, trying to appear annoyed in vain before giving in to smiling.

“You’re just lucky he didn’t expose your lack of portal building skill on Twitter. I can’t believe you couldn’t remember how to make it!”

“I had...” Suddenly, I’m brought back to the absolute despair I felt a couple of days ago, combined with the crippling anxiety of not knowing whether Dream was going to live or die. The emptiness of imagining a world without him lingers like an aftertaste I can’t quite wash away, even though Dream is sitting right next to me, even though Dream is going to be fine. 

I take a shaky breath before continuing. “I had bigger things to think about, okay?”

I feel everything I want to tell Dream suddenly well up inside of me. How much he’s helped me, how much I appreciate him, how much I love him. I’ve never been much of a crier in front of other people, but seeing Dream so alive and happy causes tears to prick at the insides of my eyes. 

I open my mouth to speak but shut it when I see Dream’s eyes go wide with pleading. “Oh, nonono. Please don’t cry,” he murmurs. 

“Sorry.” I do my best to gulp down the emotions boiling up inside of me. Of course, with all the time he’s spent with his family, Dream must be so sick of people crying on his behalf. 

“Anyway,” Dream pushes forward with an awkward chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t  _ wait _ to read all the fanfics about this," he adds sarcastically.

We spend the next few minutes laughing lightheartedly, just like we would if I were thousands of miles away. I try to memorize every smirk, every eye roll, every grin of Dream’s to make up for the ones I’ve missed over the past few years. For a little while, I can almost forget that we’re in the hospital. I can almost believe that the past few days have been a nightmare and that I’m simply visiting Dream for fun.

Except for the little knot in my stomach, a constant reminder of my fear and anxiety. I desperately want to acknowledge what happened, sometimes so badly that I want to scream -  _ You could’ve  _ died!  _ You could’ve left me! _ \- but I hold my tongue. I follow Dream’s lead when he sidesteps talking about the accident, and I can almost convince myself that everything is alright, that everything has always been alright.

_ Almost. _

“What  _ is _ Twitter like?” Dream asks. “Are people wondering why I suddenly disappeared?”

“Well...” Dream doesn’t seem to remember that we were streaming when he collapsed, and I can’t bring myself to remind him. “Sapnap and I kept them informed. Somewhat, at least. But yeah, fans were crazy worried, and now they’re crazy happy.”

“I should ask my mom if she can get my phone from my apartment, so they can hear that I’m okay from me.”

“Yeah,” I reply absentmindedly, knowing that his timeline will be filled with clips of my desperate face. Thinking about him watching the videos makes me feel strangely embarrassed, as if he’s peeking in on something he was never supposed to see.

“Plus, I’m so insanely bored,” Dream groans, drawing out his words when he adds, “Alllll the timeeeee.”

“Ouch,” I smirk.

“I didn’t mean when  _ you’re _ here, idiot.” 

I laugh, realizing that I can practically see Dream’s Minecraft character spinning around to punch me.

Dream’s mum returns, and I leave to use the bathroom, humming softly as I bounce down the long hospital hall. When I return to Dream’s room, I can feel the tension immediately. It’s as if it’s filling the room like smoke, slowly curling out the door and spilling out into the hallway.

“What do you mean I can’t go home?”

Dream’s question, brimming with frustration, is the first thing I hear as I pass through the doorway and into his room. Neither of them acknowledge my presence as I enter, and I stand awkwardly in the corner.

“The doctors recommend that you come stay with us for a bit until you’re fully recovered,” Dream’s mum explains calmly, crossing one leg over the other in the chair next to Dream’s bed. “In case anything goes wrong.”

“Mom. I’m not a kid anymore,” Dream retorts, his words sharp, and he presses his lips into a thin line in between sentences. “You can’t just make me move back home.”

Dream’s mum sounds exhausted as she sighs. “Clay, it’s only temporary, but this is non-negotiable.”

“I’m twenty years old!” Dream’s voice continues to rise. “I can handle myself!”

“Well,  _ clearly not _ , considering you’re here right now.”

Dream doesn’t have a response to that, choosing to glare out the window instead, his brows furrowed. When I speak up, the words fall out of my mouth before I know what I’m doing. “You know, Dream, she does have a point.”

All of a sudden, his glare is fixated on me, the sparkling green eyes from earlier now causing me to wince. “Remind me who asked,  _ George, _ ” Dream spits.

“Sorry,” I mumble, glancing down at my shoes.

I don’t realize that I’m waiting for his apology until Dream goes on, “Besides, my computer and mic are both at my place -”

“You are  _ not  _ recording videos any time soon!” Dream’s mum protests. “Remember what the doctors said about...”

Standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, I shift my weight back and forth between my feet, not sure what to do or say. After a moment, I leave, my legs moving without me telling them, and their conversation drifts away behind me.

It’s not like Dream hasn’t snapped at me before. Of course he gets frustrated, and anxious, and tired, but it’s always been immediately followed by a hasty apology once he realizes what he’s said. Never just silence.

I take a deep breath of fresh air as I step outside, the drizzle of rain landing lightly on my cheeks. I guess Dream was right, and I shouldn’t have gotten into his argument in the first place. But even as I try to distract myself by watching the sun slip through gaps in the clouds, I still can’t manage to get his glare out of my head, his green eyes cold and unblinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i update so randomly.... thx for putting up with it hehe
> 
> also it's kinda crazy that these chapters happen to line up w dream & george actually meeting irl for the first time ??!! (at least i HOPE they're not lying about that.... i thought it was fake yesterday but i'm honestly kinda convinced by now)


	11. Chapter 11

_ Thank you all for your kind words and support! I am feeling much better :) Love you all <3 _

I smile down at my phone screen as I take another big bite of cheerios. It seems like Dream got his phone back, and he’s clearly been enjoying it. My timeline is littered with his likes and replies, but I pause my scrolling when I see another tweet from Dream himself.

_ Getting discharged later today, so I’ll hopefully have some new content for you guys in no time :D _

_ What are you saying? _ We’re not recording videos anytime soon. I bite my lip nervously as I scroll through the replies, which range from childlike excitement to supportive messages telling him to take his time recovering, even if it means a break from Youtube. Which is probably what Dream needs, judging from what I’ve heard the doctors tell him.

_ So what is he doing promising new content? _

“You ready, George?” Dream’s mum’s voice startles me out of my thoughts. I nod, swallowing my last bite of cereal before cleaning up.

Just the two of us head to the hospital to bring Dream back home, his siblings choosing to sleep in instead. I probably would’ve opted for that too, my mind still groggy as I climb into Dream’s mum’s car, but I want to spend as much time with Dream as I can. I leave later this week, and I’m already dreading it as my flight creeps closer and closer. 

“We’re going to be stopping at Clay’s apartment on the way back, if that’s okay,” Dream’s mum tells me as we glide down the highway. “So he can pack up his clothes, his computer, his mic-”

I glance over in surprise. “His mic? I thought you told him not to record videos until he’s fully recovered?”

Dream’s mum sighs, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “It’s how I got him to agree to stay with us, instead of going back to his own apartment. You pick your battles with Clay.” She smiles, looking over at me before returning her eyes to the road. “You must know that.”

“Right. Yeah.” I do. Dream has always been the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, whether he’s spending ten consecutive hours trying to break a speedrunning record or convincing me to stream with him when I’m half asleep. And while it’s often useful, and occasionally admirable, sometimes his stubbornness is just plain annoying.

“When he was younger, he used to wire power in from the neighbors whenever we’d try to limit how much time he spent on the internet. It drove us _crazy._ ” Dream’s mum laughs fondly. “But I think his dad and I were always a little proud, deep down. Clay was a smart kid, alright.”

I hum in agreement as she exhales wistfully, and we settle into comfortable silence for a few moments. As I run a hand through my hair, smoothing out my bedhead, I can tell we’re both retracing our steps through our memories of Dream, recalling the many ways he’s changed our lives.

“He’s the reason I started making Youtube videos again,” I say suddenly, watching a single puffy cloud drift across the sun. “I had tried when I was younger, but it never really went anywhere, plus people were just so  _ mean _ ...”

I pause, recalling the hateful comments as if I had received them seconds ago. They had targeted my voice, my appearance, my personality, my skill at the game. It was at the time when I was most vulnerable, when I had just started feeling out of place at school but before I had made close friends online, which allowed the comments to crawl under my skin and stick with me ever since. Even though my comment sections are filled with support now, even though I can laugh at my past self, I still hear the words nagging at the back of my mind.

_ “How does anyone put up with this kid?” _

For a while, that stranger had made me wonder as well. And although I tell myself I’m totally over it, sometimes I’m not sure.

Clearing my throat, I continue. “I had long since given it up when Dre - I mean, when Clay started posting on his channel again. He spent weeks trying to convince me to be in his videos, telling me that it would be different, that people would love me this time. I eventually gave in, because he’s Clay.” I rest my chin on my palm, smiling at the clear blue sky. “Best decision I’ve ever made. Being in his videos made me want to start posting on my own channel again, and here we are.”

I pause, feeling my cheeks burn slightly in the sudden quiet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk for so lo-”

“No! It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dream’s mum reassures me quickly. “I was just... lost in thought.”

We’re silent for a moment as we wait at a red light, listening to our thoughts and the rumble of the car’s engine beneath us.

“You know, George...” She trails off uncertainly, eyes focused on the road.

“Yeah?”

“Clay might not be the Clay you remember.” Dream’s mum glances over at me, quickly and nervously, as I wait for her to continue. “The doctors said that people often aren’t quite the same after recovering from this sort of injury.”

“Oh.” I think of the way Dream snapped at me yesterday. It had felt so unlike him, but it hadn’t seemed like a big deal compared to the rest of the time we had spent together, in which he had been completely Dream. My best friend.

“Anger, sadness, anxiety, frustration...” Dream’s mum continues, but I’m only half-listening. “I wanted to, you know, give you a heads up, since you know him better than anyone. Just... don’t expect too much of him, okay? And be patient with him?”

She stares straight ahead, but I can still feel her pleading eyes on me. “Yeah, of course,” I respond.  _ When have I not been patient with Dream? _

“Thanks,” Dream’s mum exhales, as if this tiny conversation was a weight off of her chest, and puts the car into park. “Thanks for being there for him,” she says, for perhaps the tenth time since I stepped off the plane in Florida.

“Thanks for having me,” I respond, as I always do, before shutting the car door behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chap is v short bc it used to be combined with the next chapter, but it made that one wayyy longer than all the others so i decided to split them up. i'll update again later today to make up for it tho! just figured i'd put this one out there now since it's done :)
> 
> alsoooo 300+ kudos?? whaaaatttttt??? i'm truly shocked that so many ppl have read this and enjoyed it,,, tysm guys <3333


	12. Chapter 12

I feel strangely nervous as we enter the hospital to pick Dream up, wondering if he will still be annoyed with me over yesterday, if this new Dream can hold a grudge even longer than the old one. By coming here with his mum, am I continuing to intrude into his life? Will he give me that cold stare again as he asks me what I’m doing here?

“Mom! George!” As soon as I see Dream, all my worries vanish. His face lights up at the sight of us, completely devoid of yesterday’s anger.

“You ready to go home?” His mum asks, and Dream groans in response.

“Please. Get me out of here.” They smile at each other, and it’s as if their argument never happened, as if everything is alright in the world. As we walk back to the car, I absentmindedly nod along to their witty banter, looking back and forth between them in confusion. When I argue with my parents, there’s this lasting tension that fills the house, curling down hallways and under closed doors, sometimes lingering even after we apologize. Yet Dream and his mum laugh carelessly as we pile into the car, not a hint of frustration between them.

Dream turns on the radio the second his mum starts the engine, flicking through stations purposefully. He leans back in his seat after making a decision, humming along off-key to a song I don’t recognize. I can’t help but laugh when he butchers a high note.

“Shut up.” Although Dream is sitting in front of me, I can tell he’s smiling.

When the radio switches to commercials, Dream makes a show of looking backwards at me from his seat. “So, George, are you loving Florida? Thinking of moving here in the future?”

I scoff. “God, no.” 

“Even though I’m here?”

“It’s just so  _ hot,”  _ I laugh, shifting my sweaty legs in my seat. “I can’t live like this.”

He puts a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m hurt, George.” 

As we speed down the highway towards Dream’s apartment, I almost need to pinch myself to remind me that this is real. Dream dangles one hand out of the window, tapping his fingers against the side of the car in time to the music, occasionally using the other to flick through stations. We zip past cute homes and swaying palm trees, and I feel like I’m flying as Dream and I goof off for nearly the entire car ride. I spoke to him in person for the first time yesterday, but it already feels so natural for his voice to be accompanied by his crooked grin or mock annoyed glare.

_ “Clay might not be the Clay you remember.”  _ It feels so ridiculous now, with the radio blaring along to our laughter. Even the awkwardness of being in person for the first time has absolutely vanished. I sigh happily as I lean back in my seat, letting my worries gently float away on the breeze from Dream’s open window.

“I’ll just be a sec,” Dream says as his mum parks at the side of the road. He glances back as he exits the car, one foot out of the door. “Want to come with?”

I reply instantly. “Of course.”

I have to shield my eyes with my hand as I look up at the tall building, sparkling with sunlight.  _ So this is where Dream calls home.  _ I spend a moment taking it in before jogging after him. As we enter his apartment building, Dream makes a beeline for the stairs before pausing and hitting the button for the elevator instead. I decide not to comment on it, and we stand in comfortable silence as we zip up to the third floor.

“Here we are.” Dream unlocks his door and pushes it open slowly. “Home sweet home.”

I pause to look around after entering, and Dream stops with me as if he’s suddenly seeing his apartment in a new light. Clearly not one to splurge on decorations, Dream’s place is sparse and neat. A couple of dishes sit in the sink and a notebook is splayed open on the countertop, but besides that, everything is where it’s supposed to go. The polar opposite of my room, with its mess of rumpled sheets, dirty clothes, and miscellaneous papers.

Dream scratches the back of his head as I take in his apartment, looking a little self-conscious. “I mean, it’s not huge...”

“It’s nice.”  _ Who am I to judge? I’ve never had my own place.  _ When he doesn’t respond, I add, “So, are you going to give me a tour?”

“Of course.” All hints of timidness are wiped away as Dream leads me on a dramatic tour of his little apartment. I follow along eagerly until we reach Dream’s computer set up, and I slowly take in the space. 

His hardwood table. His black gaming chair. His two monitors, sleek and shiny.

The place where  _ it _ happened. 

I blink, and all of a sudden I can see him there. Slumped over, face pressed into his keyboard, arms hanging limply by his sides. My shaky voice calls out his name, but from thousands of kilometers away, and Dream is absolutely alone, his apartment empty and silent and -

“George? You good?”

Dream’s voice startles me, and I whirl around to face him, almost surprised to see him standing next to me. In the moment, I almost want to scream at his wide eyes.  _ Do you know how scared I was? Do you know how much I would’ve missed you? Do you know how much I care about you, how much I lo- _

“Yeah, sorry,” I brush it off with a shaky laugh. “I was just... admiring your plaques,” I finish, gesturing vaguely at the shelf where his Youtube plaques are propped up. Dream looks at me for an extra moment, a glint of suspicion in his eyes, but I’m saved by a sudden meow.

“Hey, Patches,” he says as if greeting an old friend. “Did you miss me? Is Mom feeding you enough?” Dream’s mum had been stopping by the apartment every day to feed the cat. However, now that Dream is going to be staying in his parents’ house for the time being, he figured he’d take Patches with him. 

Dream scoops his cat up, bringing her over to me. “Say hi to George.”

“Hi, Patches.” She glares at me before jumping out of his arms as I give her a cheery wave. Dream continues the tour, and I avoid looking at his computer as we make our way to his bedroom.  _ Dream’s alive and here with you now, and that’s all that matters,  _ I tell myself, doing my best to push his accident to the back of my mind as I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans.

Dream packs his clothes only slightly less haphazardly than I did, tossing seemingly random pairs of shirts and jeans into his bag. Perched on the edge of his bed, I watch him, making casual conversation. He grabs his laptop and packs up his mic, before rummaging through a closet.

“Just a sec,” Dream mutters. “It should be right here...”

“Whatcha looking for?” I peer over his shoulder just as he finds it with a satisfied “Aha!” He pulls out his old mic, a lower budget version of the one he has now.

I look at it dubiously. “Didn’t you already pack a mic?”

“It’s for  _ you _ , idiot.” He pushes the mic into my hands, and I reluctantly accept it. “For videos.”

I follow behind Dream as he grabs Patches’s carrier cage and starts looking for her. “Dream, we’re not recording videos anytime soon. At least, not until you’re better.”

“I have to,” he responds, clicking his tongue in between sentences to get Patches’s attention. “Youtube is my  _ career _ , George.  _ Ugh,  _ she hates the carrier.” 

Dream adds the last part on quickly as he storms over to Patches, who is sulking in a corner. I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring his attempts to change the subject. “Exactly, and people take breaks from their jobs when they’re injured, so-”

Dream interrupts me with a scoff, whirling around to face me for the first time since he handed me the mic. “You wouldn’t  _ understand _ , George. I don’t have a choice.” His words bite, and I drop the topic. I suppose he does have a point - it was Dream’s success that initially kickstarted our careers, and I normally trust his opinions and follow his lead when it comes to Youtube.

_ But since when has Dream been this paranoid about uploading on time?  _ D espite his commitment to Youtube, I’m so used to seeing Dream live on his own terms, uploading when he has time but taking breaks while focusing on another goal. Is he always this frustrated internally when a video idea doesn’t pan out, or when I’m too busy to record for a few days?

“Mind holding her?” While I’ve been lost in thought, Dream has successfully gotten Patches into her cat carrier. I eye him warily as I shift the mic into my right hand so I can grab the carrier with my left, but he just smiles, as if everything is alright in the world.

Dream gazes around his apartment forlornly as we head to the door, no doubt longing for the peace and quiet of his own space. Meanwhile, I focus on the back of his head, not letting my eyes leave the spot where his hair curls up slightly as it touches his neck.  _ It’s just a chair and a table,  _ I remind myself when we pass the spot where Dream collapsed.  _ Just a regular chair and table. _

I squint in the sudden sunlight when we leave Dream’s apartment, cheerfully returning Dream’s mum’s wave.

_ Everything is alright now,  _ I tell myself.

But I know I don’t fully believe it.


	13. Chapter 13

“When should I make your appointment?” Dream’s mum asks, tapping a few keys on her laptop. 

It’s around midday, and it’s  _ hot  _ in Dream’s house. The humidity seems to suffocate us, allowing no escape as it fills every corner of the room. I slouch next to Dream on his couch, chatting with a few friends on Discord while he aimlessly practices Minecraft parkour on his laptop. 

“Hmm? Appointment for what?” Dream doesn’t look up or even fully register his mum’s words when she speaks. She crosses the kitchen to perch on the edge of the couch, balancing her laptop on one hand.

“I’m looking at the therapist the doctor recommended. I just wanted to check with you before I picked a time slot.” Dream’s mum gives an exasperated sigh. “Really, you should be scheduling this yourself, you’re a grown -”

“I already said I’m  _ not  _ doing that,” Dream says a bit too loudly as he misses a jump. _"Shit,"_ he adds, watching his character drop into the void.

“That’s not up for you to decide, Clay,” Dream’s mum says firmly, in the tone of voice she probably used when Dream was five and wanted cookies for breakfast. “The doctor recommended it, so you’re going.”

Dream respawns at his last checkpoint, and his thumb slams against the spacebar as he attempts the parkour again. “Mom, how many times do I have to tell you that I can take care of myself?” He speaks slowly, his voice rising with every word, but I pretend to be too absorbed in my Discord conversation to notice.

“Clay, it says online that after a traumatic brain injury, people are two to five times more likely to develop depression, and -”

“God, Mom!” Dream’s character falls in the same place as last time, and he shuts his computer with a sudden click. “I’m not depressed! I just need you out of my fucking hair!”

I look up suddenly, completely forgetting my act of ignoring what’s going on around me. In all the time that I’ve known him, I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard Dream get so angry so quickly. 

Or sound like...  _ that. _

“Clay -” His mum starts, but Dream interrupts, standing up suddenly.

“ _ How many times do I have to tell you that _ ?” I avoid meeting Dream’s wide eyes as he whirls around. “I’m not having this conversation,” he finishes, and his shoes tap loudly against the floor as he storms away.

In the awkward silence that follows, Dream’s mum sighs. She glances over at me sheepishly, as if I’m some acquaintance she just embarrassed herself in front of, not her son’s best friend. “He’s not usually like -”

“I know,” I respond quickly, and she gives me a half-smile.

“Right. Of course you do.”

After a couple beats of silence broken only by the faint sounds of a nearby highway, I gesture vaguely in the direction that Dream went. “Should I...”

Dream’s mum knows what I mean before I finish. “Be my guest,” she says as she stands up slowly, closing her laptop and holding it under one arm. “I’m not following him.”

Although I take my time climbing the stairs, dragging my hand up the smooth wooden railing, I still have no clue what I’m going to say when I stand in front of Dream’s room. I tap lightly on his door, turning the knob hesitantly after an irritated voice gives me permission. Dream reclines on his bed, his laptop balanced on his legs, probably still attempting the same parkour map.

“Hey,” I say, wincing at my pathetic opening. 

“George.” Dream hops up as soon as he sees me, placing his computer to the side gingerly. “I wanna get out of this house - let’s do something.”

“Sure,” I respond, taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm. 

“How about I give you a little tour of my hometown?” Dream asks dramatically, and I smirk, leaning back against his wall.

“Are you sure you’re qualified to give a tour? I thought you never left the house.”

“Oh, screw you,” Dream says as he opens his desk drawer. He digs through it quickly before giving up and scanning the rest of his room. “Dammit, I must’ve lost them.”

“Lost what?” By the time I finish asking the question, Dream is already partway down the hallway. I catch up to him when he stops outside of Bella’s room to talk to her.

“-any sunglasses?” I pick up the end of Dream’s question.

“Why?” Bella asks, her eyes following Dream’s index finger as he points at me. I smile at her, but to my surprise she responds with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.  _ What happened? Just a few days ago we were hugging in Dream’s room. _

“George needs a disguise,” Dream explains, and Bella vanishes into her room after nodding in understanding.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Remind me why I need a ‘disguise’?”

“I’m not going out in public with you looking like George,  _ idiot _ ,” Dream snorts, grinning at me. “If anyone recognized you, it would take them about three seconds to figure out who I am and another three seconds to snap a picture of me.”

_ Right. Dream doesn’t want to do a face reveal yet.  _ I almost make a joke about how he’s being paranoid, obviously I’m not famous enough to get recognized, but I hold my tongue when I realize that the events of the past week contradict that.

I glance at Dream nervously out of the corner of my eye.  _ Is he normally this careful?  _ Or is this precaution directly caused by the picture of me on the plane, the one that’s likely at the forefront of his mind after the time he spent on Twitter this morning...

My stomach rolls as I realize the implications of that thought. If Dream saw the picture, he undoubtedly stumbled upon the stream clips multiple times, my frantic, desperate eyes staring out of his phone screen. I purse my lips nervously, wanting more than anything to ask him about it but unable to pry my mouth open. My burning questions hang in the uncomfortable silence as Dream shifts his weight, leaning back against the wall. He avoids my eyes when I look over at him, and for a moment I suspect that he knows exactly what I’m thinking about.

We don't speak until Bella returns, and Dream’s sudden laugh cuts through the silence, sweeping away any tension that hung in the air. My questions instantly fade to the back of my mind as my eyes fix on the glasses in her hand.

“You’ve  _ got _ to be kidding me.”

“These are all I could find.” She shrugs apologetically, twirling them around in her fingers. The lenses are exaggerated - huge, perfectly round, and tinted a color that I'm fairly certain is some sort of pinkish purple. I can’t imagine anyone wearing them in public, nevermind  _ me. _

“I’m not wearing those.” I try to sound serious as I glance between them, but I can’t help but smile. “I’m  _ not.” _

“George!” Dream protests between his laughter, bending over slightly. “You have to! Do you want me to get recognized?”

“No, but -”

“Just try them on.” Dream takes the glasses from Bella and shoves them into my hands. After an exaggerated eye roll, I comply, and the world around me changes color as Dream bends over in laughter.

“It can’t be that funny,” I say, deadpan.

“It -” Dream needs to take a second to calm himself down before he speaks. “They’re perfect. You look amazing. Fantastic. Majestic. Fab-”

“Oh, shut up, Dream.”

“Well,” Bella interjects, “You guys have fun.” She shoots me one last look before shutting the door with a click. As I follow Dream back to his room, it hits me.

_ “We used to do so much together, but when he moved out, we just... drifted.”  _ Dream is finally back home after she thought she might lose him, and he’s still spending no time with her. Because I’m here.

I feel a twinge of annoyance as I look back at the closed door.  _ What am I supposed to do about that?  _ I’m here from another county, it’s our first time hanging out in person, and I’m leaving in a few days. Of  _ course _ , Dream is going to want to spend time with me. It’s not my fault that she can’t talk to him about how she feels and simply  _ tell  _ him that she misses him.

I scoff softly.  _ That’s an awfully hypocritical statement coming from me, a world record holder in being unable to say how I feel. _ I run my hands over the back of Dream’s chair absentmindedly, remembering the first time that I was in this room. I had been filled to the brim with the things I wanted to tell Dream - how appreciative I am of him, how happy he makes me, how much I love him. The words had sounded so clear and simple in my head, and yet... 

And yet, I haven’t said a single one, even though Dream is standing right in front of me as he rummages through his closet. We dance around the accident when we talk, picking our friendship up where it left off and ignoring the fact that he could’ve  _ died,  _ that I’ve spent the past few days thinking about him  _ dying, _ and that even though he’s going to be fine, I still can’t shake those thoughts from my head.

The first time I was in this room, I would’ve given  _ anything _ to be able to talk to Dream, and yet here I am. Pathetically silent, twiddling my thumbs as I wait for him to find what he’s searching for.

“You gonna try it on?” I blink back to reality, and Dream’s holding out a baseball cap for a team I don’t recognize. I put the hat on without complaint, ignoring Dream’s laughter and avoiding looking into the mirror on his desk.

“It’s perfect,” Dream tells me as we’re met with a blast of heat on the front porch of his house. “You look ridiculous.”

“Great,” I say sarcastically.

As we walk through Dream’s neighborhood, he chats more than he shows me around, but I don’t mind. I try to immortalize the moment, our laughter and playful teasing echoing down the suburban streets. It was just like I had always imagined when I was in college, when I would feel a pang of jealousy as I passed a cheerful group of friends on my way to class...

But not quite. I find myself tiptoeing through our conversations as if walking on eggshells, trying to avoid having him blow up on me the same way he blew up at his mum. I watch him carefully out of the corner of my eye, bracing myself for when his deep green eyes would become cold and hard, his voice taught and sharp.

It never came, of course. But I still couldn’t shake the squirmy nervous feeling in my gut, and I carry it with me as we walk to a nearby ice cream shop before continuing our stroll through Dream’s neighborhood.

“Hold this.” Dream stops suddenly in front of a long brick building, handing me his melting ice cream cone. Before I can respond, he grabs a stone from the side of the road and launches it with a dramatic running start. It hits the building and clatters back down onto the ground pathetically.

I quickly give him back his cone before it starts dripping onto my hand. “What was that for?” 

“Old habit.” Dream shrugs, and carefully licks the drips off of his scoop of ice cream. “That was my old high school, the one I went to until I convinced my parents to let me switch to online school.” He pauses to spend another moment on his ice cream, before continuing. “Worst year and a half of my life.”

“I’m sorry.” We hadn’t talked much about our personal lives back then. I knew about him switching out of his public high school, but I hadn’t known that he had hated his time there  _ that _ much. 

What had Dream’s mum said?  _ “He never really settled down after we moved, never really made new friends...” _

“Don’t be,” Dream responds quickly, casually, brushing the whole incident to the side. “I had Bad, and Sapnap. And then I met you. You guys got me through.”

I can’t help but laugh as he smiles brightly. “You have ice cream on your nose, dude.”

“Love you too, George,” Dream jokes, grimacing as he wipes his nose with the back of his palm. He takes off walking away from the building, and I have to jog to keep up, wishing that I had said anything other than the ice cream statement.

_ Just another way to avoid talking about what really matters,  _ I think, and my pang of regret follows me all the way back to Dream’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is the longest yet & took me an actual eternityyyy to edit so i hope y'all enjoy ! 
> 
> only 3 chapters left ;))))


	14. Chapter 14

_ Thud. _

I awaken suddenly, just in time to hear a whispered “ _ fuck. _ ”

“Hello?” I blink into the darkness of Dream’s living room as its silence swallows my words. I can’t see anyone, but I would recognize that voice anywhere. “Dream? Dream, I know you’re there.”

Although I’m sure it’s him, my heart still pounds during the few moments of silence before Dream gives in. He sighs, shifting his weight, and I can finally spot his figure outlined in front of a window.

“I stubbed my toe.” It takes me a few seconds to process his soft words. I can barely even recognize the small, lost voice as my best friend. “This is stupid. Sorry. Just... go back to sleep, George.”

My exhausted body desperately wants to agree, but I ignore it. “Nope, I’m wide awake,” I lie, stifling a yawn. “What’s up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been having trouble ever since... well, you know.” Dream trails off, mumbling the last few words. “I figured I’d see if you were still awake, but I didn’t mean to wake you up...”

I squint at the time lit up on the microwave.  _ 2:32 AM.  _ Funny, I probably would be playing Minecraft with Dream around now if everything was normal, but visiting him has somehow fixed my sleep schedule.

“Well, I was already awake,” I reply on instinct, another absolute lie, but he doesn’t challenge it. “You wanna watch a movie or something?” Somehow, I can’t stand the thought of Dream going back to his room to stare at the ceiling for another few hours.

“Sure,” he says lightheartedly, but I can hear the relief evident in his voice. “Mind if I turn on a light? I don’t wanna kick another table.”

Before I can respond, Dream clicks a switch, and I’m blinded. I yelp in surprise before squeezing my eyes shut comically.

Dream laughs. “Oh my god, you’re a vampire. I’ll just use my phone flashlight.”

“Shut up,” I respond, but I’m smiling as I slowly crack open an eye into the darkness. Dream jokingly flicks his flashlight towards me as he makes his way across the kitchen, chuckling at my protests. 

“Ow!” I wince as he plops heavily down onto the couch, landing on my legs. “What the hell!”

“I’m sorry, I’m -” Dream laughs even harder as I kick him off of me. “I didn’t know you were, like, reclining!”

“This is my bed, Dream! Of course I was reclining!” As I sit up, I happily note that the small, lost voice from earlier has transformed into the Dream I know and love in just a few moments. 

He slouches back, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. In its faint light, Dream looks pale and ghostly as he aimlessly clicks through channels. I’m studying the awkward, gravity-defying angles of his messy hair when he glances over, taking me by surprise.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Uh...” The question takes a second to register in my foggy mind. “You can pick. I’m probably going to fall asleep halfway through, anyway.”

“What happened to being wide awake?” Dream scoffs, and I don’t bother responding.

He turns on an action movie I don’t recognize, one with guns and shouting and explosions that sound tinny as Dream keeps the volume as quiet as possible. Within the first few minutes, I realize that Dream comments on absolutely  _ everything _ , as I should’ve known he would. Although I normally hate when people talk over movies, I don’t mind when it’s Dream - I’d rather hear his dumb jokes than the overly dramatic dialogue, anyway. I settle in, lying back down but curling my legs up to my chest, giving Dream room to sit at the edge of the couch.

At first, I joke along with him and join in on his analysis of which scenes couldn’t be possible, but as the movie drags on, I feel my eyelids grow heavy. My responses to Dream’s commentary turn from sentences and laughs into grunts and mumbles. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I realize I must have drifted off when I snap awake to Dream saying my name.

“Yeah?” I roll onto my back so that I can see him better in the flickering lights of the credits. I don’t even remember the movie ending.

“How long are you going to stay?”

I open my mouth to tell him about my ticket home on a plane that leaves two days from now, but I freeze when Dream looks over at me. In the dim lighting, he almost looks like a little kid, with his wide round eyes and ruffled hair. He purses his lips and glances down at his hands, as if preparing for my answer. 

I know immediately that I can’t leave then. My family can deal with me not being around, my friends back home can deal with not seeing me, my fans can deal with no new videos or streams. In that moment, everything fades away but Dream’s gloomy question. I forget about him snapping at me, I forget about him snapping at his mum, and I forget about his idiotic persistence to upload new content as I give him a half-smile.

“As long as I can.”

The credits end, leaving the room in darkness once again, but not before I see Dream return my grin. He softly exhales the breath he must have been holding.

“George?”

“Yeah?” I roll back onto my side, closing my eyes. 

“I saw what happened on the stream. After I...” Dream gulps, his voice trailing off. “I mean, you know...”

I’m instantly wide awake. “You did?” I ask, trying and failing to keep my tense voice lighthearted. I stare intently into the darkness of the living room, doing my best to ignore the clips of my pale, worried face that flash before my eyes.

“Yeah. On Twitter. You might’ve -” Dream pauses to take a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft and deliberate. “You might’ve saved my life, George.”

It’s barely a whisper, and yet his words seem to echo into the sudden silence.

“Hell, you probably  _ did _ save my life,” Dream laughs humorlessly, his voice shaky. “If you hadn’t called my mom, who knows how long it would’ve been before... before someone checked up on me, and -”

“It’s nothing,” I blurt. The words come out rushed and insensitive as I desperately drag the conversation away from what might’ve happened if I wasn’t there, if Dream and I weren’t streaming. I can’t bring myself to even consider that possibility.

“But it’s  _ not.”  _ Dream sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and I squint at the patch of darkness where his voice comes from. “And I just... there’s just no way I could ever  _ possibly  _ repay you for that.”

A single car passes by Dream’s house, and I get a glimpse of him as the headlights flash through the living room windows. Eyes downcast, Dream fiddles with the edge of the blanket I’m under nervously. He’s the polar opposite of the person I’ve been hanging out with all day, as if he shed his familiar confidence like a winter coat and left it upstairs when he came to find me.

_ Dream repaying me? _ The thought is absurd, almost laughable. I remember playing Bed Wars with him and Sapnap the night after my last college final, the two of them cheering and congratulating me in between matches, until...

_ “So, what are you going to do next?” _

Dream had asked the question so casually, so nonchalantly that I had immediately informed him that I was bridging over to Red Team’s bed,  _ obviously. _

_ “No, I mean... after college. Now that you’re done.” _

_ “Oh, I...” _

I didn’t know. That was the truth, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to admit it to Dream. Dream, who has always seemed to know exactly what he wants and how to get it, with confidence that would seem downright cocky on anyone else. Back then, he had just started talking about trying Youtube again, but I already had a feeling his channel was going to be a huge success. Because he’s  _ Dream. _

_ “I guess... get a job,”  _ I said finally, vague and reluctant, and although Sapnap jokingly called me lame, both of them dropped the topic. Which I was grateful for, because I’m not sure how I would have responded if they had asked more questions. I couldn’t imagine myself applying for the jobs my dad encouraged me to try, where I’d have to wake up early every morning and spend the day in some office building, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I remember staring at my hands after leaving the Discord call, wondering what on Earth I was doing, what on Earth I was going to do.

Out of all possible directions my life could’ve gone, I never would have predicted  _ this.  _ I never would have predicted that I’d make a living off of doing what I love and posting it on Youtube. I exhale softly as I stare up at the ceiling. Some of my happiest memories were made over the past year, and I couldn’t have done any of it without Dream.

And yet he thinks that he somehow has to repay me? It’s ridiculous, and the words fall out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying, twisting together into a low mumble.

“You already have.”

I flush red in the beat of silence after I speak, feeling stupid and cheesy, almost hoping that he hasn’t heard me. 

“Hmm? What did you say?” Despite my embarrassment, I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. I know I won’t be able to repeat the words, so I don’t even try, brushing them off instead and kicking them under Dream’s couch.

“Nothing.” I can feel Dream’s eyes searching for me in the darkness, and I stare straight ahead. “You don’t have to repay me, idiot. We’re friends.”

“Yeah, I...” As Dream trails off, I can feel my mind wandering, sleep clouding my thoughts. “I dunno.”

We go quiet, but it’s a comfortable silence, disrupted only by the faint white noise of a nearby highway. I curl up, pulling my blanket around me, and I let my breathing become heavy as I close my eyes. 

The last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep is Dream’s soft voice.

“Sorry for keeping you up. I just didn’t want to be alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm posting this a day later than i meant to, but hopefully the wholesomeness of this chapter makes up for that <3333


	15. Chapter 15

“You ready?”

I had told Dream that I didn’t want to record any videos. In fact, I had told him approximately five separate times. And yet here I am, watching his Minecraft character hop up and down in excitement on my screen.

It’s all Dream’s fault. Ever since my first in-person conversation with him, I’ve learned that Dream has an infuriating way of asking for things, his tone carefree but his lips pursed in a slight pout that instantly burdens me with guilt. I’d take the time to explain that ‘no, Dream, I don’t think we should stream,’ or ‘no, Dream, I don’t think we should record a video,’ only for him to bring it up again a few hours later with the same look. I was bound to give in eventually, although I still agree with his mum that he shouldn’t be focusing on making content for his fans right now.

However, I’d be lying if I said that Dream’s nagging was the only reason I gave in, if I claimed that I wasn’t secretly longing to fall back into our familiar routine of filming Minecraft challenges...

“Yep. I’m ready.” I sigh, resting my chin on my palm as I watch a bird flit past Dream’s open window. The sun hasn’t even set yet, and I’m already exhausted.  _ Great. _

Dream had spent the morning catching up with friends, letting his Discord calls blare out of his computer’s speakers. I chimed in occasionally as I perched on his bed, absentmindedly scrolling through social media on my phone. The first calls were exciting, Dream and I finally getting to hang out with Sapnap and Bad and our other close friends as my cheeks began to ache slightly from how much I was smiling.

However, as an hour flew by, guilt began to layer in my stomach with the words of each new person. They would all give Dream the same lines about how good it was to hear his voice again, how much they missed him, how much he means to them. As he chatted with some people I don't know very well, Dream told me I could do something else if I wanted, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to move. I sat frozen on the edge of Dream’s bed, pretending to be scrolling through Twitter as I soaked up every word of their conversation.

_ These people don’t know Dream half as well as I do,  _ I thought bitterly.  _ And yet, I haven’t said half of these things. _

When Dream ended the last call, I tried to find the willpower to speak up, if only to reiterate what so many others have said. However, after a couple of hours of the same conversation over and over, I couldn’t bring myself to force it on him again.  _ It’s just not the right time, _ I told myself, my so-called frustration tinted with relief. Feeling like a worthless excuse for a best friend, I fiddled with the edge of my shirt absentmindedly, and just then Dream decided to ask about recording yet again.

Maybe that’s the real reason I gave in. His perfect timing, and my idiotic thought that agreeing to this will make up for all the things I haven’t told him.

“Okay, run the command!” Dream says, and I comply with a sigh.

The challenge is a sequel to our ‘All Mobs Are Controlled by a Player’ video, but this time Dream controls the mobs instead of me. As I break my first tree, I can feel myself immediately settling back into the familiar rhythm of playing Minecraft with my best friend. We banter effortlessly as I hop through dense forests and snow-capped mountains, Dream accompanying me as various friendly animals while he waits for me to go in range of a hostile mob.

It isn’t until I’m mining for iron deep in a cave that I start to get nervous, carefully glancing around myself every few minutes as Dream attempts to sabotage me as a spider, then a zombie. 

“Ohhh George,” he taunts, and although I try to sound serious, I end up giggling as I respond.

“Shut up, Dream.”

Dream laughs, and despite my reluctance to record videos, I can’t help but feel glad that I agreed. It’s a relief to get confirmation that at least playing Minecraft hasn’t changed, at least we get to keep this integral piece of our friendship. 

“Dream...” I say suspiciously, eyeing a skeleton a bit further down the cave. “I know that’s you.”

“What’s me?” he asks innocently, but I frown as I study the skeleton’s aimless wander. 

“Stop trying to act like a normal - ah!!” I shout as a creeper explodes right behind me, bringing me down to two hearts, and Dream laughs.

_ “That  _ was me.”

I steal glances at his expression as we play, studying the way he presses his lips into a thin line as he concentrates and the way his eyes crinkle slightly when he smirks. It’s strange to be in the same room after all of our years of playing in different countries, and I find myself stuck in a cycle of forgetting that he’s there as I focus on the game, and then being surprised by his presence all over again.

Eventually, I manage to make it to the nether, sprinting away from Dream’s ghast and into the nearby fortress. I quickly find a blaze spawner, and immediately realize that I am absolutely screwed.

“Dream,  _ Dream!”  _ I yell as I retreat from the spawner with my character on fire, Dream chasing me as a blaze “Leave me alone, just leave me -”

“Shut up,” Dream says, so suddenly and seriously that I can’t help but laugh through my cries. The fire goes out, but as I duck around a corner I run straight into a wither skeleton that Dream must have transformed into. He manages to hit me once before I spin around, and my heart races, although deep down I don’t care much about beating the challenge. I’m just happy to be here, yelling and laughing with my best friend.

However, when I glance down at my health, my focus returns to the game.

_ “No! Dream! I’m going to die, I’m going to -” _

“I  _ said,  _ shut up!” I cut off immediately at the sound of Dream’s voice and the clatter of his headphones as he yanks them off. I’m dragged out of the game and back to reality, back to Dream’s bedroom and the sunlight streaming through the windows. “You’re always like this!”

“What?” My voice sounds thin and pitiful. Hypnotized by Dream’s angry words, I barely notice as my character dies onscreen.

“So fucking  _ loud!”  _ Nearly yelling himself, Dream tilts his head back to stare at his ceiling. “It’s driving me crazy.”

I search his words for a hint of withheld laugher, but come up blank. Dream is dead serious, with a kind of anger I’ve never heard him use on me before, and I flush red with embarrassment as I study my palms. I guess I was being a bit loud, considering he was hearing me both in person and through his headphones. “Sorry, I’ll -”

“I don’t know how I ever put up with you.”

It feels like a punch to the gut. I freeze when I hear those words come out of Dream’s mouth, in Dream’s voice, with Dream’s cold stare meeting my eyes. It all sounds too familiar, too much like...

_ How does anyone ever put up with this kid?  _

“W-what?” The word topples haphazardly out of my mouth, more out of shock than genuine confusion, and Dream scowls.

“I  _ said _ , I don’t know how-”

“Who are you?” My words hang in the sudden silence. “Who _are_ you, Dream?”

I can see something in him twist, something break in his angry green eyes, but as Dream opens his mouth to speak, I don’t bother hearing what he has to say. All of a sudden, I can’t stand to be here, in this room, with this man who looks like my best friend but sounds like a stranger. 

I don’t look back as I leave, closing his door behind me with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter will be out tomorrow ;))) thx for reading!!


	16. Chapter 16

I drop down onto the wooden steps leading up to Dream’s house, realizing that there’s nowhere for me to run in this unfamiliar town. 

I’m not being fair. Somewhere deep down, I know that. I know that Dream suffered a serious head injury, and that he’s not going to be himself as he recovers - or maybe ever again. What did Dream’s mum tell me?  _ Be patient with him. _

And what am I doing?  _ Not that. _ I yelled back at him, and then ran away. I feel a pang of guilt, yet even now, as I watch the sun flicker through the trees, I’m having trouble separating Dream from the words running through my head on a loop, the comments left on my Youtube channel years ago.

_ How does anyone ever put up with this kid? _

Is that what he’s always thought of me? All this time, when I had thought I had found someone who I could truly be myself around? I lean back on my palms, closing my eyes. It wouldn’t have been the first time that it’s happened, and it probably won’t be the last.

If only I hadn’t gotten so into the game. If only I hadn’t yelled. If only I had made fewer dumb jokes, and fewer mistakes, and -

The door clicks open and closed behind me, and I realize that I’ve been dreading that sound. I knew Dream would chase after me. But I don’t want to hear his stupid apology, at least not until I separate him from  _ them, _ convincing myself that Dream is still different from the strangers who gave me hate online.

As he approaches, I fix my eyes on the second-story window of a house across the street, making a show of not looking over. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll leave me alone. 

I brace myself for the ‘I’m so sorry’ when he sits down next to me, but instead there’s a sudden weight on my shoulder. I glance down in surprise. Now Dream’s the one ignoring my eyes, his head leaning lightly on my shoulder. 

He sniffles softly, subtly, and I can feel something inside me break, my anger seeping out of my palms and into the wooden deck like air out of a deflating balloon. 

“I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Dream’s voice breaks off at the end, dragging me out of my thoughts and back to the present.

“You’re you, Dream. You’re still you.” I try to make my voice reassuring, but it comes out sounding sugarcoated and ingenuine after our argument from earlier. 

_ “Who are you, Dream?” _

I wince at how obvious it is that I still don’t believe the words I’m saying, no matter what I tell myself.

Dream forces a laugh, a humorless choking sound. Of course he’s seen through me. “But I’m  _ not _ ,” he says, and as hard as I try, I can’t think of any response that would come out right. Because yes, he’s still Dream, but he’s not the same. He might never be quite the same.

Nothing I say could possibly change that.

So instead of talking, I sit up a little straighter and gently lift my palms off of the deck. Slow with uncertainty, I wrap my arms around him, letting them drape awkwardly across his back. I wait for Dream to push me away, but he instantly reciprocates the hug and buries his face into my shirt.

Neither of us speaks or moves for what seems like an eternity as I watch the sun droop lower in the sky, peeking through the branches of a tree across the street. Birds chirp sweetly, their song intertwining with my steady breaths and the occasional rumble of a car engine. Ruffled by a light breeze, Dream’s hair tickles my chin, and I can’t help but smile to myself. How long has it been since I’ve hugged a friend? So long that I can’t even remember.

I want to stay like that forever, in the peaceful quiet where actions say what words cannot, but eventually Dream sits up. He avoids looking at me as he wipes his eyes discreetly, and I turn away, suddenly feeling like I’m intruding in on his privacy by watching him. Instead, we both gaze at the sun, lost in our own thoughts.

“I think...” Dream gulps, then restarts. “I think I need to see a therapist.”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. 

“I don’t want to do that again,” he continues, his voice shaking. “I don’t _ever_ want to do that again.”

I can hear the regret laced in every word. Somehow, this means more than any ‘I’m sorry’ could’ve.

“You’re my best friend, and if you actually think that I meant any of those things, you’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, Dream,” I respond sarcastically, but I can’t help but laugh a little.

“No, I’m serious!” He retraces his steps. “Loud noises hurt more than they used to, and I had my volume up way too loud, and you just surprised me, when I already had the  _ worst  _ headache, and I guess I just... lost control...”

I sigh. “It’s okay, Dream.”

“Obviously I’m not trying to make excuses, though,” Dream rambles, avoiding making eye contact. “Because what I said was still my fault and -”

“It’s  _ okay, _ Dream. I get it.” I smile at him to show that I mean what I’m saying this time. He finally meets my eyes, if only for a moment, before glancing away, running a hand through his hair.

Dream puffs out his cheeks as he exhales, before speaking again. “I think I need to take a break from Youtube.”

It’s what his parents and I have been trying to make him do all along, but his words still take me by surprise. Youtube has been Dream’s obsession for over a year now. Even months before he started uploading again, he could talk for hours about it, rattling off video ideas and strategies to help him gain subs. He would claim he was coming to me for advice, but really I would just nod along in the right places while Dream’s train of thought zigzagged through ideas. I couldn’t imagine Dream without his pride over hitting milestones, his excitement over new videos, and his long disappearances while he edited.

_ But after what’s been happening recently... _

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“I might lose subs,” Dream adds, and I can tell he’s stealing glances at my expression, trying to judge my reaction.

“Your fans will understand,” I say, although I’m not sure how many will.

“It’s going to slow my growth.” Dream wrinkles his nose. I can tell he’s thought this over many times in the past few days. “I was gaining subs exponentially before this, and by disappearing I’m going to waste this opportunity, so -”

“Dream,  _ you’re  _ more important than that,” I interrupt, and he glances over in surprise. “And you clearly need a break to spend time on yourself.”

He looks back down at his shoes. “I guess.”

“Besides,” I add, “knowing you, you’ll make more opportunities for yourself as soon as you get back to making videos. The Dream I know wouldn’t let this hold him back.”

“Thanks.” He smiles at me, before leaning his head on my shoulder again. This time, I wrap an arm around him without the uncertainty, looking out across the street. In the time we’ve spent talking, the sky has exploded into a swirling mess of pinks and purples, peeking out from between the leaves of trees.

“Hey look,” Dream adds, and I can tell from his voice that he’s smirking. “We’re actually watching a sunset together.”

“So we are.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the wind gently whistle through the trees. When Dream speaks again, his voice is soft and sincere. “Thanks for everything, George. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He pauses, before adding. “I love you, dude.”

For once, I respond without hesitation as I lean my head onto his.

“I love you too, Dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo!! it’s done!!!!
> 
> tysm to everyone who read this, ESPECIALLY anyone who left nice comments. y’all make me so happy :’) i’ve never posted my writing online before so i was honestly pretty nervous about it, but everyone has been so nice & supportive! this definitely isn’t perfect, but it’s the first thing i’ve written in a while and the longest thing i’ve ever finished, so i’m pretty proud of it :)
> 
> i have another dream team fic in the works, but it's pretty long and i wanna draft the whole thing before i start posting so it'll prob be a lil while before i post on here again... but i'm superrrr excited and hopefully some of u guys will end up reading that fic as well!
> 
> again, thanks sm if you've made it this far <333


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